An Operative's Tale - Selene Stormblade Book 2
by Whisper292
Summary: Selene's story continues as the winds take her in new directions. She journeys to Windhelm, where Ulfric Stormcloak waits with new opportunities for adventure.
1. An Operative's Tale 1: Summons

An Operative's Tale 1

Summons

The secret to a long life is knowing when it's time to go, and it was time to go. Whiterun had been Selene's home for the past year, and in that year she had grown up more than in her last twenty years combined. After spending so much time alone and at odds with the world, the people of Whiterun—especially those at Jorrvaskr—had shown her what it was like to have friends and family. And lovers. But her destiny lay elsewhere, and with a heavy heart she took her pet fox Liska, walked out the gates, and put the city behind her. She'd go back, of course. She owned a house, and as Vilkas had pointed out, she would always be a Companion. When a child leaves her parents' home, it doesn't mean she'll never go back again. But she still has to leave.

A dragon howled far away, and Selene shuddered. She was the Dragonborn, for Kyne's sake. Shouldn't she be less afraid of them, especially after killing so many?

Dragonborn. She had first heard the term a couple of days after she had come to Whiterun, and she was still trying to figure out what it meant. Oh, yes, she could absorb the soul of a dragon she had killed, and she could learn their Shouts effortlessly, but there was more to it. Some said she had the blood of a dragon. Did that mean she was part dragon? She possessed wolf blood, too, and she had to admit it would be exciting to shift to dragon form the way she shifted to beast form.

Today, being Dragonborn meant working her way through the convoluted tunnels and passages of an ancient burial crypt to find an artifact. She didn't mind; she enjoyed exploring the depths of the barrows, fighting draugr and collecting all sorts of treasures. She rarely came out without a couple thousand Septims worth of loot and gold.

Selene and Liska camped in the woods the first night. It was just past noon the next day when they approached Ustengrav. The burial ruin held the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, the artifact the Graybeards had sent her to collect. It was her final test before they officially acknowledged her as Dragonborn, although they had been calling her by that title for months. Jurgen Windcaller had developed the Way of the Voice, the means of using dragon Shouts to glorify the gods, and had founded the Graybeards. The horn was very precious to the order, and Selene was tasked with stealing it from Jurgen's grave. That was really what it was, no? Grave robbing? But she'd done it before, so it didn't even give her pause.

What did give her pause was the necromancer and handful of bandits that camped near the wall surrounding the crypt. She'd heard the barrow was a haven for necromancers, and it appeared the stories were true. She ducked behind a tree and nocked an arrow, pulling the string level with her ear and peering down the shaft of the arrow. Funny how aiming with her bow and crouching near her prey in beast form had begun to feel so similar. Silent, breathing, her muscles tense, the scent of her quarry flooding her extra-sensitive nostrils. There were five of them, two women and three men, only one of them alive. The necromancer smelled of ozone, suggesting that Selene could expect her to hurl lightning.

With barely a flick of her fingers, she released the arrow, and it hit the necromancer squarely in the thigh. Selene groaned.

The necromancer swore and got up, barking orders at the bandits, who descended on her much too quickly. Liska darted away as Selene dropped the bow and drew her sword so she could fight more closely. As they neared her she did what she could to even the odds a bit.

"_YOL!"_

Two of them shrieked and fell to the ground, their skin and clothing burning; and Selene engaged the other two, thankful for the hours upon hours of training she had done with Vilkas and Farkas, practicing fighting multiple opponents. She shifted between the two bandits, parrying a shot from one and thrusting her blade at the other. One of them, who wielded a dagger, connected with her shoulder where a deer had gored her only two nights before, and she screamed. She retaliated with a jab to the bandit's midsection, and he dropped with a groan. One down, four to go. Lovely. Fortunately, the necromancer was hanging back, letting her thralls do the dirty work, and the two Selene had burned hadn't recovered yet. She exchanged blows with the fourth bandit, taking a few minor scrapes before getting a good swing at her neck and all but decapitating her. Then she went to the other two. Her Thu'um had recharged by now, and she simply released it again, incinerating them before they were able to get up. Hardly fair, but when it was five against one, she did what she had to do.

"I won't be so easy," said the necromancer as she swept toward Selene and hurled a fireball at her. "I can play with fire, too."

"Happy for you." Selene was also happy she had went with the fireball instead of lightning because her boots were enchanted to help her resist fire. She dodged the fireball and rushed the mage, who managed another, catching Selene in the already-sore shoulder. "Gods damn it! Can't you people pick fresh places? Why do you have to keep worrying the same place?"

"I'll see you burn!"

"Already burning. _YOL!"_ The necromancer yowled, dropped to the ground, and writhed; and Selene closed the distance between them and planted her sword in her chest. Exhausted and breathless, she lay down next to the dead mage and closed her eyes. "I'm not used to doing this shit alone," she muttered.

Liska padded up and nuzzled her cheek, and Selene reached out and stroked her fur. "Oh, I'm all right, little one. Just catching my breath." She lay there for a long while before sitting up and digging in her knapsack for a healing potion. She drank the potion, then removed her armor and undershirt, not caring if anybody passed by and saw her naked. She looked at her shoulder, already scarred from a hagraven's fireball months before, now stinging and bleeding again. She growled in frustration, pulled a healing salve from her pack, and dabbed the wound before bandaging it.

"You know what, Liska? I miss 'em already." Had Farkas or Vilkas been with her, five foes would have been nothing. As she looked at the carnage around her, she marveled that she had survived. Then again, she did have a goddess watching her back, and that was a comfort—as long as she kept in mind that though the Divines might nudge her in the right direction, they weren't just going to prevent all harm from coming to her. She'd have to remain vigilant, especially now that she was traveling alone.

Her shoulder taken care of, Selene dressed and dragged herself up. "You go back to your hiding place," she told the fox as she sheathed her sword and slung her bow and quiver over her shoulder. She descended the stairs that led to the door to the crypt, which rested about twenty feet below ground. "Kynareth, protect me," she whispered before pushing the heavy, rusted door inward.

There was another necromancer inside, but only one, and Selene managed to take her out with a single arrow. The first leg of the dungeon was easy, someone having already gone through and killed all the draugr. She figured it was the necromancers because she saw a couple of dead ones, but after a while, she stopped seeing necromancers and only came upon dead draugr. Someone else had been through before her, and the realization sent chills down her spine. The last time somebody had beaten her to a dungeon, she had been introduced to the Silver Hand. The Silver Hand were tough, and she had never fought them without a shield-sibling. Thus, she moved with extra caution in the hope of sneaking up on them and killing them before they detected her.

But she found no Silver Hand, only dead draugr, the occasional walking one, and a handful of creative traps. In a fabulous underground cave, she found an oasis that brought Eldergleam Sanctuary to mind. Heavenly light shone on a crystal-clear lake, majestic evergreens that shouldn't be growing so far beneath the surface, and a word wall. It had been a while since she had heard the chants and felt the head rush as the world dropped away and the dragon script glowed before her, and she welcomed the heady sensation. Today's word was _FEIM,_ fade. She reached deep inside to the last dragon she had slain, and she understood. When she used this word, no damage would come to her for a time. She couldn't deal any damage, either, so it might not be effective in combat, but it would be great with traps.

She found out all too quickly, however, that it would _not_ help her walk through walls. A set of three stones rested just uphill from the word wall and were accompanied by three matching portcullises. When she stepped past a stone, it lit up with a musical hum and one of the gates opened; but shortly after she moved away from the stone, that gate closed. Thus, she used the _FEIM_ Shout and tried to walk through the gates, getting a nice knot on her forehead for her troubles. She puzzled over the door for a while, attempting a run, stretching her arm through the bars to get at a pull chain, which was just out of reach, and finally deciding to try her Whirlwind Sprint Shout. _"WULD!"_ But the first gate still closed before she reached it.

"Oh, for the love of Kyne!" Maybe running _and_ Shouting would work. She stood at the first stone, and the gate opened, then she took off running. After she passed the third stone and all three were open, she Shouted. _"WULD!"_ Her body shot forward at a staggering rate of speed, and she made it through before the gates closed. "Finally!" she cried with relief.

After another handful of interesting traps and dead draugr, Selene came to a room with a long runway that led to a sarcophagus at the back. A coffin lay on each side of the stone structure, both with slain draugr lying half-in and half-out of them. As she stepped into the room, the ground started to shake, and four enormous, stone dragon heads emerged from the shallow moat flanking the runway. Selene braced herself, waiting for the ceiling to cave in, or at the very least for a dozen draugr to suddenly appear and try to kill her, but nothing happened. The dragons made a kind of stone canopy over the walk, standing as honor guard for her march to the sarcophagus.

The coffin was impressive, made of ancient stone, peaked like the roof of an exotic castle, and carved with runes in ancient script. A stone hand rested at the top, no doubt used for holding the artifact, but the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller wasn't there. In its place was a rolled piece of parchment. Selene took the note and read.

_Dragonborn-_

_I need to speak to you. Urgently._  
_Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in_  
_Riverwood, and I'll meet you._

_-A friend_

"You have got to be kidding me," Selene spat. "What kind of asshole—" She snarled and stomped her foot, seriously considering dropping to the floor and throwing a temper tantrum worthy of the brattiest three-year-old. Her beast form threatened to emerge, but deep underground was not the place for a werewolf, so she found an exit and left Ustengrav, fuming.

She left her clothes behind the stairs and let her inner wolf out, raging through the swamps of Hjaalmarch and slaughtering mudcrabs, skeever, and any unfortunate animal she could lay her paws on. Morthal was dangerously close, and the scent of human flesh was almost too seductive to resist, but she forced herself away. Oh, she might well destroy the bastard who had beaten her to the horn, but innocents shouldn't suffer for somebody else's transgression. After a while, still angry but having calmed her rage, she went back to Ustengrav, retrieved her clothes and Liska, and headed to Morthal to stay at the inn for the night. The next morning, she started for Riverwood, still as angry as the night before.

It was stuff like this that had damaged her faith in people in the first place. Why would someone go to that much trouble just to leave her a note? The Graybeards had made this sound like such a monumental quest, but somebody had easily gotten there before her, so why did she even bother? Maybe whoever got the horn should take her place as Dragonborn. She occupied her mind with such thoughts while she traveled, imparting many of them to Liska, who cooed sympathetically.

Selene was tempted to bypass Whiterun, but it was late in the day and she was tired, so she spent the night at Breezehome. She arrived in Riverwood the next day in the middle of a thunderstorm, which fit her mood perfectly. She had hoped time would cool her anger, but she was just as pissed when she got to Riverwood as she was when she left Ustengrav. When she stepped on the covered porch of the Sleeping Giant Inn, Selene stopped and wrung the excess water out of her dripping hair before going inside. It wasn't really going to matter much because she was soaked and would still make a nice puddle on the floor, but at least it was more comfortable for her. It was warm inside, and the floor was wet from customers who had already come in from the rain, so she didn't make things any worse. Several patrons sat around the large fire pit in the center of the room, drinking mead and warming their hands and feet. An attractive, middle-aged woman swept the floor at the other end of the pit. When she saw Selene, she put her broom down and approached.

"So you're that visitor, been pokin' around."

"This is an inn; everybody's a visitor. And I haven't been poking. I'd like to rent the attic room."

She raised an eyebrow and said, "The attic room, eh? Well, we don't have an attic room, but you can have the one on the left. Make yourself at home, but the fox has to stay outside."

Selene handed her ten gold pieces and took Liska out to the front porch. She gave a little girl sitting on the porch five Septims to make sure nobody tried to harm her, then went back inside and waited in the room the innkeeper had pointed out. _Make yourself at home,_ she had said. Right after she had accused her of poking around. She didn't like many people when she first met them; it was one of her biggest flaws. But there were some people you just hated instantly. This innkeeper was one of them. It was much to Selene's dismay when the woman followed her in the room and held out an ancient horn.

"I believe you're looking for this," she said. "I'm Delphine. We need to talk. Follow me." She led Selene through the inn and to a private room on the other side. "Close the door." When Selene shut the door, Delphine opened a wardrobe and pressed on the back inside panel, which opened onto a flight of stairs leading down to a secret room. Selene followed her down. "Now we can talk. So you're the Dragonborn I've been hearing so much about."

"It was you? You took the horn?"

Delphine chuckled humbly. "I guess I'm getting pretty good at my 'harmless innkeeper' routine."

"What's with all the secrecy?"

"I had to be sure you weren't a Thalmor plant."

"Thalmor?"

"They're the ruling body of the Aldmeri—"

"I know who they are."

"I figured the Graybeards would send you for the horn as some sort of test, and I was right. They're nothing, if not predictable. They believe you're the Dragonborn, so I assume they have some sort of proof, but before I go any further, I need to be sure I can trust you."

"How about whether I can trust _you_?"

"If you didn't trust me, you were a fool to walk in here in the first place."

"I think you'd better start talking."

Delphine took a step toward her and raised an eyebrow. "I'll tell you what I want, when I want, and I'd watch the attitude. You'd already be dead if I hadn't liked the looks of you when you walked into the inn. Look, I'm not your enemy. I just need you to hear me out. But I need to know if you really are Dragonborn."

"_FUS!"_ Delphine stumbled backward and almost fell. It was time to go. "I'm done here."

"I shouldn't let you walk out of here, knowing what you know."

Selene barked a short laugh. "Come on, then, if you actually think you can stop me."

The mysterious innkeeper sighed, and her expression softened. "I don't want to fight you, Dragonborn. I want to help you. Go if you feel you need to. I'll be here when you change your mind. And you _will_ change your mind. You have to."

Selene rolled her eyes and bounded up the stairs and out the door. The storm had passed, and the rain had slowed to a drizzle. The sun was even trying to come out. Good. It would mean better weather for the trip to High Hrothgar to deliver the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. She decided to see if Ralof, the soldier she had escaped Helgen with, was still around while she was in town; but his sister said he had left months ago for Windhelm. She did let Selene into her house to allow her to dry off and strengthen herself with a hearty lunch and some mead before getting back on her way.

Gerdur sat in a chair near the table, drying Liska's fur with a soft cloth while Selene spooned excellent stew into her mouth and sipped at her mead. "It's good to see you, friend," Gerdur said. "Ralof talked about you from time to time, wondering where you had gotten to and what you were doing."

"Actually, I joined the Companions."

"A noble path!"

"Hey, Gerdur, what do you know about Delphine?"

"At the inn? She's quite personable. Spends a lot of time chatting with her customers. She doesn't talk much about herself, though. Orgnar's in love with her, you know."

"The bartender? She's like twenty years older than he is."

"But lovely, no? It's sad, really. She seems content, but I think if she let Orgnar into her life, he could make her happy. He's really very sweet, and he's a good man. I believe he'd be a good catch for any woman, if she could get past his gruff exterior."

"I think Delphine has other things on her mind than running the inn." The woman gave her a thoughtful expression but didn't respond. "Gerdur, thank you. You're a real friend. Those are hard to find these days."

Gerdur reached across and placed her hand over Selene's. "You've been a friend as well. And you're always welcome here. I have to get back to the mill, but take your time and just bring me the house key when you leave. Take care of yourself, my friend."

Selene stayed for a while, finishing her mead and warming herself by the fire. Liska, finally dry, curled up and went to sleep, but Selene had to interrupt her nap so they could get on their way. It was a long way to Ivarstead. She stopped at the mill and gave Gerdur the key, then headed north, still angry with Delphine but admittedly curious. The innkeeper was obviously an experienced warrior. She had killed a slew of draugr and a couple of necromancers to get to the inner chamber of Jurgen Windcaller's crypt, an awful lot of trouble just to make sure Selene wasn't with the Thalmor. Unfortunately, Delphine had refused to come forth with any useful information before having proof that Selene was Dragonborn, and Selene had been too angry to dance with the woman.

Delphine said she would change her mind. She _had_ to. What in the Void did that mean? Perhaps she _would_ change her mind. Maybe the Graybeards knew her; she certainly knew them. She would ask when she arrived. For now, she would just concentrate on getting there.

* * *

When Selene took the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller to the Graybeards, they taught her the final word of the Unrelenting Force Shout and formally greeted her as Dragonborn. The entire monastery—and probably most of Skyrim—shook as the four monks spoke the traditional words of greeting to the Dragonborn with their full voices.

The Graybeards didn't know Delphine, and Master Arngeir said he had no idea why the woman would go to such lengths to seek out the Dragonborn. He did admonish her to be cautious, however. If she was wanted by the Thalmor, Delphine was dangerous, and though she might pose no direct threat to Selene, there was always the risk of guilt by association.

Selene studied and meditated with the Graybeards for a week before finally making her trek back down the mountain to Ivarstead. When she checked into the Vilemyr Inn for the night, Wilhelm was respectful, almost reverent.

Oh, great.

"You know, don't you?" she muttered.

"I suspected. It should not be something to hide. It's a glorious thing, and you should be proud."

"I don't really hide it; it just makes me uncomfortable. People look at me differently when they know I'm Dragonborn."

Wilhelm gave her a warm smile. "My apologies, Drago—Selene. I will do my best not to make you uncomfortable. I have something for you, though." He reached beneath the bar and brought out an envelope, which he handed to her. "A courier came a couple of days ago and said he had information that the Dragonborn had gone to High Hrothgar. He said if she—you—came in, to give you this."

"And you put two and two together."

"Not many make the trip up the Seven Thousand Steps and stay the week. And wasn't it a month last time?"

"All right, all right, let me look at this letter." She opened the envelope pulled out a card made of heavy, expensive stock with the Stormcloak insignia emblazoned upon it. It was an invitation written in fine calligraphy, probably done by a professional scribe.

_Dragonborn,_

_Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak requests the honour_  
_of your presence at the Palace of the Kings,_  
_Windhelm, at your earliest convenience._

"Wow," Selene gasped. She looked up at Wilhelm. "Ulfric Stormcloak wants to see me."

* * *

Characters and settings c. 2011 Bethesda Softworks LLC


	2. An Operative's Tale 2: Ulfric

An Operative's Tale 2

Ulfric

Selene bought a tankard of warm mead from Wilhelm and then went to her room, changed out of her armor into a nightdress and curled up on the bed with Liska and a book she had borrowed from the Graybeards. After reading the same page five times and still not remembering what she had read, she laid the book down.

"Ulfric Stormcloak!" she whispered excitedly to Liska. "He's part of the reason I came back to Skyrim. And he wants to see me! I mean, he obviously went out of his way to find me. Or he just figured it out when the Graybeards spoke to me. I'm sure in Morrowind, some Dunmer looked up and said, 'What was that?' But by the Eight, Liska, what could Ulfric possibly want with me?"

"Wow-wow-wow-wow!"

"Maybe he's working with Delphine. Do you think? Quite the coincidence that people all over Skyrim are suddenly looking for me. I met him before, you know. He was at Helgen when the black dragon attacked. He was partly responsible for saving my life. I doubt he remembers me, though; a lot was going on that day. But you should have seen him. He was amazing!" She sighed and dropped her head on the pillow. "How in Oblivion am I going to sleep after this, huh? Gonna be a long trip tomorrow, and I don't want to go before Ulfric Stormcloak with dark circles under my eyes. For Kyne's sake, Liska, will you shut up and let me get some rest?"

The fox purred in response.

Selene closed her eyes and tried to find her calm center, the place of serenity she slipped into when she meditated, but tranquility eluded her. She was giddy, silly; this was totally unlike her. As excited as she was to meet Ulfric Stormcloak, she had to keep a cool head. If he had gone out of his way to find her, it was because he wanted something. That was just the way things worked. However, telling herself to keep cool and actually doing it were totally different. She tossed and turned, her mind racing in anticipation of not only meeting Ulfric, but the Palace of the Kings, the court, how she was supposed to act, completely overlooking the fact that he was no higher in station than Balgruuf the Greater, with whom she interacted on a regular basis. If she could handle Balgruuf, she could handle Ulfric. She was a thane, for Kyne's sake. But no, when she walked into the Palace of the Kings and approached the man himself, the Jarl of Windhelm, leader of the Stormcloak Rebellion, all that was going to go out the window and she would turn into a giggling adolescent. Or just be terrified into paralysis, which would be even worse. Like so many nights when the beast blood tormented her with dreams of the hunt, she finally gave up, dressed and got on the road.

When she passed the Aalto near Eldergleam Sanctuary, Selene heard the howl of a dragon. It seemed a new one had set itself up in the lair she and Vilkas had cleared out. Perhaps it was because of her days of meditation at High Hrothgar or her nerves over meeting Ulfric, but whatever the reason, she found she wasn't afraid this time, not even of fighting the dragon alone. She grinned, checked her supply of arrows, and told Liska to wait there; then she detoured onto the volcanic sulfur flats. The dragon found her before she found it, and it dove for her, spitting a stream of fire at her. "Ugh!" she groaned as the flames singed her hair and skin. If this kept up, she was going to have to cut her hair after all. She ducked behind a rock and rummaged through her pack, finding and swallowing a fire-resist potion before the dragon wheeled around and came back. While she was in there, she also found a bottle of poison she didn't even realize she had. She dipped an arrow in the poison and nocked it, waiting for the dragon to fly close enough to get a good shot. It teased her, swooping in and climbing high before she could shoot, and she tracked it with her bow for several minutes, swearing at it as it stayed just out of range.

The dragon must have gotten bored and decided to stop toying with her, because it flew in and hovered, taking in air for its Fire Breath Shout. But Selene was ready, and she let her arrow fly, catching it in the neck. It howled again, this time in pain, as it spiraled upward and slammed to the ground a few yards away. Selene readied another arrow and edged toward it. The dragon growled at her and said something in dragon language.

"I don't understand you," she stated.

"I said Alduin will see you burn, _Dovahkiin."_

"You first." She loosed her arrow and caught it in the head, and it screeched and collapsed in its death throes, then burst into flames and gifted her with a soul. This one was a male by the name of _Lotyuvonal_. She basked in the warmth of the flames that surrounded her and the presence entering her mind, refreshing and energizing her, filling her with wisdom and hidden knowledge. When the sensation passed, she took a bone and scale, then dug through the remaining carcass and pulled out at least a hundred gold pieces.

She retrieved Liska and took her to Eldergleam Sanctuary, where they camped for the night. As she relaxed on her bedroll and watched the waterfall cascade in from the lofty ceiling, Selene pondered Lotyuvonal's words. He said Alduin would see her burn. People were always telling her they'd see her burn; that was nothing new. But who in the Void was Alduin? Was he the black dragon, or was she just obsessing on that one because he was the first she had seen? Perhaps he wasn't a dragon at all; maybe he was the person responsible for the dragons returning. It was possible, she supposed, that the people won the Dragon War didn't kill the dragons off but simply banished them to another part of the world, and now they were returning to Tamriel. They had to come from _somewhere_. On the other hand, she had read about dragon cults, humans and mer during ancient times who worshiped the dragons as gods. Why they would do such a thing, she couldn't imagine, but perhaps a modern-day dragon cult had formed, led by this Alduin, and they were conjuring dragons.

Selene thought of Delphine again. Maybe she knew where the dragons were coming from. It was always possible that _she_ was involved in their return. She certainly hadn't been forthcoming with information. And while she hadn't really threatened to kill Selene, she had made it clear that she thought she could do it. Why would someone who wanted to help her be so hostile? Then again, Selene wasn't exactly friendly, herself. Well, whether she was on her side or that of the dragons, Delphine warranted more scrutiny. Somebody had to know who she really was. Perhaps when she got to Windhelm, she could get help from Ulfric Stormcloak.

If there was anything that could bring her mind away from dragons, it was Ulfric Stormcloak. Although she had only seen him once, and only for a few moments, his image was burned into her mind. He was a big man, nearly a foot taller than she was, oozing presence even with his hands bound and a gag over his mouth. He had the most penetrating green eyes she had ever seen, and his voice when they escaped into the keep was resonant and commanding with the deepest timbre she'd ever heard, save Farkas's. From that, and from the myriad stories she'd heard about him, she had built an image in her mind of a bigger-than-life hero who was just short of Divine. The real man was almost certain to disappoint; who could live up to such an image? But Selene could hardly wait to find out.

Windhelm was possibly the dreariest city Selene had ever seen. She approached the great city late in the afternoon, its cold, stark walls looming over the snow-covered landscape and threatening all those who approached, "Don't try anything." A chill wind blew across the long bridge leading to the massive city gates, which stood behind a curtain of snow flurries under a steel-gray sky. Where Whiterun had been friendly and inviting, Windhelm looked as if it would just as soon turn strangers away. As if to prove the point, a city guard stepped in front of her, blocking her way.

"State your business," the guard demanded.

"I've received a summons from the jarl." She handed him the envelope.

He opened the letter and looked up at her, eyes wide, then pushed open the heavy gate and ushered her inside. He handed her the summons and stammered, "My apologies, Dragonborn. Welcome to Windhelm."

The first thing Selene saw when she entered the city was a dark elf woman being harassed by two Nords. While she was clean and dressed in old but well-kept clothing; the men were filthy and dressed in little more than rags. They had to be freezing, but they were more interested in hassling the elf than getting in from the cold.

"You're not wanted here," one of them, a smelly middle-aged man wearing a tunic and threadbare hat, said. "You eat our food, pollute our city with your stink; you won't even support the Stormcloaks in the war."

"We haven't taken sides because it's not our fight," the Dunmer protested.

"You live in this city. It _should_ be your fight."

"You speak as if you would actually allow us to fight alongside you."

"Or maybe it's because they're Imperial spies, Rolff," said the second Nord, older, bald, and wearing a sleeveless tunic. He looked like he had just escaped from prison.

"Perhaps we'll pay you a visit this night and show you how we deal with spies," Rolff threatened.

Selene stepped up behind the Dunmer and leveled a menacing glare at the men. "Aren't you two a little old to be acting like the town bullies?"

"Mind your own affairs, outsider," baldy warned her. "You know nothing of what goes on here."

"Seems I've already learned quite a bit, and I just got here." She stepped in front of the elf and rested her hand on the hilt of her sword. "You lads can go now."

Rolff took a step toward her, but baldy put a hand out to stop him. "Now's not the time," he said. "Watch yourself while you're in our city, outsider."

As the bullies walked away, Selene turned to the woman. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine, but I'm afraid you've come to the wrong place, my friend. Windhelm is a city of prejudice and hatred for anyone who is not a Nord, not fitting for a generous soul such as you. You may have called Rolff and Angrenor off for now, but they're always about. Rolff is the worst, spewing venom and threats."

Selene's blood boiled. She had never understood racial prejudice, even that of elves. It wasn't as if they _all_ backed the Aldmeri Dominion. She had met many who just wanted to live their lives regardless of who was in charge, and others who were staunch supporters of the rebellion. How could someone hate everybody of a given race just because certain ones were their enemies? As for bullying, it just made her furious. She watched the two shabbily dressed Nords make their way through the alley, her wolf bristling inside her, itching to break free and tear the men apart. She knew she couldn't do that, but a good brawl wasn't out of the question. She would keep an eye on those two.

"Please don't take this the wrong way," Selene said, "but why would you want to live in such a city?"

The woman sneered and opened her mouth to retort but stopped herself, her expression softening. "It's a valid question. The truth is I have nowhere else to go. I've thought many times of returning to my homeland, but such a trip is expensive and dangerous. Someday, perhaps."

Candlehearth Hall was directly in front of the city gate, and Selene rented a room so she could clean up and rest before going to see the jarl. The innkeeper wasn't happy about Liska, but she let her stay with the admonition that Selene was to clean up any messes the fox made. After washing up, she went to the bar upstairs and had good venison and Black-Briar mead for dinner, then settled into her bed with a book. She could hear the bard playing upstairs, and it was nice background music until she started playing a song that made Selene rocket out of bed.

"_Our hero, our hero claims a warrior's heart._

_I tell you, I tell you the Dragonborn comes."_

"What in Oblivion?" Selene flinched as she listened to the song lauding the hero that would save the world. Someone had written a song about her? Ysmir's beard! It was flattering on some level, but it also made her feel exposed, naked, as though everyone knew who she was. "Do you believe that, Liska?" she said to the vixen curled up at her feet. "You know, Farkas used to tease me about the songs that would be written about the Dragonborn, but I didn't think it would actually happen."

Disturbing musical selections aside, Selene and her inner wolf slept reasonably well and awoke ready to meet the jarl. The day had dawned clear and sunny, and Windhelm looked much better in the sunshine. The quartz in the old stone buildings glimmered in the light, and the dusting of snow made everything look cleaner, as though someone had come in during the night and scrubbed and whitewashed the streets. The Palace of the Kings was made of the same gray stone as the rest of the city, but in Selene's mind it was beautiful. Its many tiered floors reminded her of a huge, elaborately decorated cake, the snow a layer of pristine, white icing to top it off. She walked up to the doors of the palace ready to show the guard her invitation; but he opened the door for her without a word, and she entered the great hall, cavernous, brightly lit, and festooned with Stormcloak banners. A long table laid out with a veritable buffet dominated the center of the room. At the end of the hall was an enormous throne that dwarfed the man sitting upon it.

Ulfric Stormcloak, however, was indeed bigger than life, and by no means did he look small. He was glorious, slouching on his throne, discussing Whiterun with his housecarl. They continued to speak as Selene approached, as if she weren't even there. The housecarl, whom Ulfric called Galmar, wanted to kill Balgruuf, but Ulfric felt taking the city and leaving him in disgrace would send a better message. He would rather do it without bloodshed, but he wasn't optimistic. Selene didn't understand. Balgruuf had remained neutral; why would they want to loose their venom on him?

The conversation turned to the soldiers and their families, and Galmar declared that they, the Stormcloaks, were the soldiers' families now.

"Tell me, Galmar, why do you fight?" the jarl challenged him.

"I fight to defeat the elves and run them out of Skyrim once and for all. I thought you shared that mission."

Ulfric proceeded to inform his housecarl that he fought for the men who had died in his arms, the woman and children who were left without their husbands and fathers, and those who had been oppressed by the Aldmeri Dominion, his voice growing louder and more impassioned with every word. He made it very clear that he fought for his people, not his own agenda, and Selene wanted desperately to believe him. She'd heard so many conflicting opinions about the man since coming to Skyrim. People called him everything from a hero to a villain. Some thought he was practically a god, while others believed he was a murderer who wasn't even worthy of a trial, better to be put down like a rabid dog. Most everybody said he was arrogant and overbearing and harbored a vicious hatred of the Empire. Selene could definitely see that, but as she listened to his conversation with Galmar, her opinion leaned even further toward 'hero.' When he finished speaking, it was all she could do not to cheer.

"You speak what we all feel," said Galmar, "but for now, we have a war to plan."

Ulfric finally turned his gaze away from Galmar and acknowledged her. The weight of his stare was tremendous, and Selene felt as if her knees would buckle under it. "Only a fool would approach a jarl without a summons."

She held up the envelope, exerting a monumental effort to keep her hands from trembling. "I'm no fool, my jarl."

He smiled, his eyes sparkling. "'Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes.'"

Selene couldn't help rolling her eyes. She stood silently, hoping it was just a lack of response and not terrified paralysis. Perhaps he would take it as disapproval of the song. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Galmar nodded to Ulfric and quietly left the great hall.

"I'm glad you made it. My advisors tell me you are making waves throughout Skyrim, that you've killed dragons and absorbed their souls, and that you've made a name for yourself with the Companions. Everyone in the province heard the Graybeards' summons, of course. I felt I ought to meet the woman behind the myths and legends. I must admit you're not what I expected."

"You expected someone older? Taller? A man perhaps?" Thank the Divines; she could speak.

"I knew you were a woman, but yes, someone older." He looked her over. "You're young, you're lovely, and you look as though you've never seen battle."

"I consider that an asset. If your opponents underestimate you, it gives you a hidden advantage."

"Indeed. And do you consider me an opponent?"

"I'm not sure yet," she confessed. "I still don't know why you sent for me. But believe me, my jarl, I have seen battle. I have more experience under my belt than it appears."

"I remember you, you know. You were with us at Helgen. Bound for the block, I believe."

"I was."

"Aye, we're all criminals in the eyes of the Empire. I assure you, I sent for you not to oppose you but in the hope that you would join me in my cause. A woman of your stature and ability could be a great asset to the rebellion."

"I appreciate the offer, my lord, and I've actually thought about it. I spent the last several years in Cyrodiil and came home to Skyrim with the intention of joining you. I even discussed it with Ralof after we escaped."

"Ralof's alive?" he asked, eyes wide. "That's good news. He's a damn good man."

"I'd heard he'd already returned to Windhelm."

"I haven't seen him. I'll have to ask Galmar. So. What about my offer?"

She shook her head sheepishly. "I'm a fighter, but I'm not suited to the strict regimen and discipline of a soldier."

"But you're a Companion."

"The Companions aren't soldiers. We're mercenaries, sellswords, and each of us is our own person. We don't even have a real leader." Kodlak Whitemane's voice rang in her head. _Lead the Companions..._

"I see." He was silent for a moment, eyeing her up, studying her even more closely than before. He leaned on his elbow. "Where do your strengths lie, then, if not in regiment and discipline?"

"I'm an archer, and I've become pretty adept with the sword since joining the Companions. I'm also a hunter and am at home in the shadows."

"How are you negotiation?"

Selene chuckled. "I'm afraid tact is not one of my strengths."

"Intimidation, then? Theft?"

"What are you trying to say, my lord?"

"I still believe we could help each other," he replied, his voice as smooth as warm mead. "You may be better suited to acting as an operative, a spy. You would still be a member of the Stormcloak Rebellion, but you would work in a more subtle capacity, scouting for the troops, unburdening Imperial officers of valuable information, espionage. You would have more freedom than a conventional soldier. It would also be more of a challenge, I would wager."

Now, _that_ sounded like fun. As a Companion, she hadn't had much opportunity to use her skills as a thief, and she had to admit she missed reaching her hand into a pocket and drawing out what was inside or sneaking into a building and relieving the owners of their valuables. She doubted he would have her doing anything like that, but stealing documents and information was close enough. Still, she had to ask. "You said we could help each other. What's in it for me?"

Ulfric threw back his head and laughed. "I remembered you from Helgen for several reasons. The obvious, of course, is that everything about that day is burned in my mind forever. And you were stunningly beautiful, hard to forget, even in rags."

"Thank you, my jarl," Selene muttered, hoping she wasn't blushing.

"I also remember thinking at the time that there was something about you, the look in your eye, the way you carried yourself even as you walked toward the chopping block. You held your head high, refused to show fear. You were self-assured, robust, experienced for your age, you knew how to look out for yourself, and you were furious that you had let yourself be captured. You leave an impression on all who meet you, don't you?"

"You got all that from watching me walk to the block?"

"And your actions after the dragon attacked. It was only a few moments, but it doesn't take long to size someone up. And as I said, you made an impression."

Selene wondered if the jarl knew what a compliment that was, especially coming from him. It gave her confidence, and she began to feel as if she _wouldn't_ crumple to the floor at any moment. "You haven't answered my question."

"My apologies. I can offer you experience, a family of like-minded individuals who will defend you to the death. I can also offer you a home in my city."

"Basically, everything I already have with the Companions."

Ulfric scowled at her. "You're not making this easy, you know."

"I'm sorry, my lord. I mean no disrespect; it's just that...you're not what I expected, either. I would be honored to serve you."

His face lit up, and when he smiled, he was magnificent. "Excellent! See to Galmar. No doubt he'll have some sort of test for you; he likes to see the caliber of those he commands." Selene nodded and turned toward the war room. "Dragonborn," Ulfric called.

"Aye, my jarl?"

"What is your name?"

"It's Selene."

"Welcome to the rebellion, Selene."

She headed for the war room to meet Galmar, not really sure what had happened. A man like that didn't summon just anybody for a personal audience and ask her to join his cause. Selene supposed she wasn't just anybody, but there was still more to the conversation than politics. The man was blatantly flirting with her. Maybe that was just what he did. He was handsome, unmarried, and very powerful; he probably had women lining up to share his bed. Thus, he saw women as conquests, prey to be tamed. Or, maybe he was just charming. Aye, that was it. He was just charming.

As she approached Galmar, she chuckled to herself. Well, she had left the Companions seeking adventure, and she would surely find it here. It just might not be the adventure she'd had in mind.

* * *

Characters and settings c. 2011 Bethesda Softworks LLC


	3. An Operative's Tale 3: The Crown

An Operative's Tale 3

The Crown

Galmar Stone-Fist's big test was to bring him some ice wraith teeth. It wouldn't have been a problem at all if not for the fact that the wraith whose teeth he wanted resided at Serpentstone Island northeast of Winterhold. Liska followed her part of the way but stopped at the point where the forest ended and the endless plains of snow began. She sat underneath a pine tree and regarded Selene with trusting eyes, and Selene sighed sadly. "I know it's not safe for you to come any farther, but how will I find you when I come back?" Liska gekkered in response, and she knelt and scratched the fox behind the ears. "Take care of yourself, little one." With a tear in her eye, she turned and continued her trip north.

From there, the trip consisted of slogging through the snow, even on the highway, and tiptoeing across a trail of icebergs in order to prove her worth to the second in command of the Stormcloaks. She slipped on the ice and fell into the Sea of Ghosts three times, and Selene swore to the Divines that she would ram the ice wraith's teeth down Galmar's throat. She wished she had thought of making the last leg of the trip in beast form. She could have secreted her clothes away and shifted, and her claws would have had better purchase on the ice. Teeth and claws would be just as effective against the creature as a sword, maybe more. She'd certainly be a lot warmer. Fortunately, she had thought to bring a lot of frost-resist potions, so at least she wouldn't die of hypothermia.

She managed to get to Serpentstone Island in one piece. Killing the ice wraith was easy; she'd killed scads of them, after all. Then began the trip back. She made it all the way to the mainland without falling into the ocean, and she thanked Kynareth as she trudged up the bank toward the snow-covered road. Selene never planned on returning to Cyrodiil. Skyrim was her home, and she was happy there. However, on days like this, she couldn't help questioning the wisdom of that decision.

She pitched her tent in a nook carved by a glacier into the rocky foot of the mountain, and though the shelter of the rock would keep the worst of the wind away, she couldn't find any dry wood for kindling, so she wouldn't be able to build a fire. Instead, she ducked into the tent, undressed, and shifted to beast form and went hunting. After a delicious horker steak, extra rare and bloody, Selene went back to the tent and snuggled in for the night, hoping nobody would try to get in. She awoke shivering as the morning light seeped in through the canvas of the tent. She had shifted back to human form sometime in the early hours of the morning and had managed to climb into her bedroll in her half-asleep stupor, but it wasn't enough. She dressed as quickly as she could with shaky hands and broke camp, cursing Galmar every step of the way back to Windhelm.

Liska wasn't there when Selene returned to the spot where they had parted ways, and her heart sank. She searched the general area for a while and sat with a bottle of mead for a couple of hours awaiting the fox's return, but as the sun started to sink behind the mountains, there was still no sign of her beloved pet. Finally accepting that Liska wasn't coming back, Selene gave up and continued her trip back to Windhelm, feeling more alone and empty than she had in a long time. She had figured she'd never see the little vixen again, but that didn't make it hurt any less. Not knowing what happened was the worst. Selene would never know if Liska had simply wandered off and found a new home or if something had killed her. It rent her heart to think of all the fox had survived, only to be caught and eaten now. Perhaps she should have picked her up and carried her, insisting that she go along. Or maybe she should have left her back at Candlehearth Hall. Elda the innkeeper was pretty accommodating; maybe she would have taken care of Liska while Selene was gone.

She was almost back to town when she picked up Liska's scent. Laughing with delight, she called out for the fox, who tottered up a few moments later, cold and tired but healthy. Selene picked her up and held her close to her chest. "I thought I'd lost you!" she cried as the fox licked her cheeks.

When she returned to the Palace of the Kings, she walked in on another conversation between Ulfric and Galmar, this time about some sort of crown the housecarl had discovered.

"You don't even know if it exists," Ulfric accused him. "Why should I assign men we need elsewhere to a fool's errand? We're already diverting troops across the southwest; we cannot afford to waste resources."

"When have I ever been false with you? I would not come to you with this if I weren't sure. The Jagged Crown exists, and you shall have it. With it in your possession, the moot will _have_ to recognize you as High King."

Ulfric looked up at Selene, where she stood in the doorway of the war room, and grinned. "Very well. I'll send the Unblooded here with you. Fancy a crawl through a draugr-infested crypt to look for an artifact that may or may not exist?"

Selene's mind went back to Farengar Secret-Fire, the court mage of Whiterun, who'd said nearly the same words to her less than a year before. "Sounds like my idea of a good time," she quipped.

Galmar turned to her, impressed. "By the Nine, you _are_ a good sneak! I didn't even here you come in. So you made it back alive. Seems I owe Ulfric a drink."

"You're saying you sent me to my death?"

"Not at all. But there's nothing wrong with a friendly wager. How was the trip?"

She reached into her satchel, drew out a small sack containing the teeth and held them out to Galmar. "It was cold."

He took the teeth from her with a chuckle. "Now that you've proven yourself, are you ready to take the oath?"

"Oath?"

"Before you can join us, you must swear fealty to Ulfric, the rebellion, and vow to defend your shield-brothers and sisters to the death."

She glanced over at Ulfric, who leaned on the map table, watching her closely. Could she trust him? Probably not. One didn't attain his position without looking out for themselves. He wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice her if it furthered his cause. But she did believe in that cause, and if it hadn't been enough to lay down her life for him, she shouldn't have gone on Galmar's quest in the first place. Besides, he wasn't any less trustworthy than the Imperials. "I'm ready," she told Galmar.

"Then repeat after me."

"I do swear my blood and honor," she repeated, "to the service of Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm and true High King of Skyrim. As Talos is my witness, may this oath bind me to death and beyond, even to my lord as to my fellow brothers and sisters in arms. All hail the true sons and daughters of Skyrim."

Galmar nodded with satisfaction. "Well, girl, you're one of us now, and you'll be accompanying me on a little errand. We're going to Korvunjund. I've learned that it may be the resting place of the Jagged Crown."

"So I heard. What's the Jagged Crown?"

"You don't know the old song? The Jagged Crown belonged to the kings of old, the last one being King Borgas, but it was believed to be lost when he was killed in Valenwood. Legend holds that King Borgas's body was returned to Skyrim—along with the crown—and buried in an undisclosed crypt, and I have it on good authority that it's in Korvunjund. See to Jorleif, and he will get you outfitted with the Stormcloak uniform. Be ready to leave by sunup."

"Understood." She nodded at Ulfric, who responded in kind, and then she left to find the steward.

* * *

Selene got a nice surprise when she arrived at Korvunjund. Ralof was there. She had escaped Helgen with Ralof, and they had become good friends in the few hours it took to reach Riverwood, the shared experience of surviving the chopping block and the black dragon creating an instant bond between them. Ralof was adorable. He was in his late twenties and had golden hair, baby-blue eyes, and an air of innocence about him. He was the consummate soldier, practically born with a sword in his hand, and he had never wanted to be anything else; but even so, he regretted having to kill. He didn't care for magic, and he was terrified of the undead.

"Hey!" he exclaimed when he saw her. "I knew you would join up!"

Selene threw her arms around him and gave him a hug. "I hoped I would see you. I was in Riverwood a few weeks ago, but Gerdur said you'd left for Windhelm."

"I'm glad you're here with me," he confessed. "These old tombs give me chills. My pa always said to steer clear of them, and now I'm about to go into one." He shuddered. "I don't think the others understand my apprehension."

"Love, I've been in many of these places, and trust me: the undead fall just as easily as the living. The only thing you have to watch out for is their Thu'um."

"What, Shouts? I thought only dragons and the Graybeards could do that. And Ulfric."

"And me," she said with a conspiratorial smile.

"You're kidding! But that would mean you're—"

"Why must everybody look at me like that when they find out? But aye, the more powerful draugr can Shout, so just be aware of that when you're fighting them."

It turned out that the draugr weren't the only things they had to worry about. A detachment of Imperial soldiers guarded the entrance, evidently having been tipped off by their spies that Galmar had located the Jagged Crown. However, they didn't realize they weren't alone, and the Stormcloaks were able to launch a surprise attack, mowing through the Imperials in minutes with only one casualty.

"That's the way I like it; short and bloody," Galmar boasted as they stood to the door to the crypt. "We had the element of surprise this time, but inside won't be so easy. Keep your wits about you and watch each other's backs." He opened the door and entered the ruin, and the others followed.

Selene hung at the back with Ralof, who was as pale as a sheet and breathing heavily. She rested a comforting hand on his arm. "It's okay, Ralof."

"I'll be fine," he resolved, and he didn't hesitate again as he went inside.

Galmar had been right; the legionnaires inside were ready for them, and the Stormcloaks had a tough time of it, taking heavy casualties as they worked their way through the line of Imperials. They came to a narrow corridor, and Galmar stopped his advance. "I don't like the looks of this. There could be an ambush on the other side. Unblooded, why don't you look around and see if there's another way in, if there's some way we can ambush _them_? We'll wait here and rush in when we hear fighting."

There was nothing on the main floor, but she found a second entrance on an upper level. She crept through the doorway onto a catwalk to find a handful of Imperials milling around below, oblivious to the spy watching from above. Selene drew her bow and aimed at the one farthest from the door, catching him in the chest. He dropped to the stone floor with an anguished wail, and his comrades turned to see what had happened, at which point Galmar and the others charged in from below.

After a while, the draugr came out of hiding, and several of the Stormcloaks were alarmed by the rotting corpses attacking them. Ralof, however, fought like he had been dealing with them for years. He reminded Selene a little bit of Farkas, who was afraid of frostbite spiders, but he set his terror aside and did what had to be done. The complement battled Imperials and draugr until they came to one of the fabled puzzle walls, a wide doorway with a round, three-pronged keyhole in the center, surrounded by three concentric circles, all with glyphs bearing animal shapes. The same glyphs were carved into the palm of a jeweled dragon claw that acted as the key. While Galmar contemplated the mystery of the wall, Selene looked around for the claw. If they didn't find one, they were screwed because no ordinary lockpick would open the door. Fortunately, she found one next to a dead Imperial just as Galmar said, "Unblooded, you're the smart one. See if you can figure out how this works."

"I got this," she assured her commander. This was the third such wall she had come across since coming to Skyrim. Selene adjusted the heavy rings so that the glyphs would match those on the claw—wolf, moth, and dragon—and then inserted it into the keyhole and turned it. With that, the rings rotated on their own until a dragon showed up on each one, and the door descended into the slot beneath it. Selene pulled the claw out of the hole and turned to Galmar.

"You've done this before," he surmised.

"Once or twice."

They entered a room a short time later where a deathlord sat on a throne, head down as if he had just nodded off. The Jagged Crown sat on his head. Without a word, Selene aimed an arrow at the powerful draugr. As soon as it hit, he stood up and came at her, and several other draugr, a couple more deathlords among them, burst from their crypts. Selene dropped her bow and drew her sword, hard pressed to defeat the deathlord. It was one of the hairiest fights she had ever been in, exchanging blow after blow with the monster and occasionally picking herself up off the floor when he Shouted at her. She Shouted back, breathing fire at the draugr before continuing to hack at it, and it finally succumbed. Selene was shocked that she had prevailed without serious injury. Looking around the room, however, she saw that the others weren't so lucky. The only Stormcloaks left standing were Ralof and Galmar.

"Unblooded, take the crown from that thing and get it back to Ulfric. And tell him he owes me a drink!"

"Understood. But I think you can stop calling me 'Unblooded' now."

Galmar chuckled. "That, I can. Good work today."

She retrieved the crown, but before she left, she went to Ralof, who was standing in the middle of the room, surveying the carnage around him. "You okay?"

He gave her a half-smile. "I can't believe I made it," he mused. "Aye, I'm okay. Take care heading back to Windhelm."

* * *

Ulfric wasn't in the great hall when she and Liska arrived at the Palace of the Kings two nights later, and Jorleif showed her to his private chambers, where he was just sitting down to dinner—chicken, potatoes, and grilled leeks. He had changed out of the armor and fur cloak he wore in court and wore a simple belted tunic. The outfit suited him, made him seem less regal, more human.

"Dragonborn, join me," he offered, pointing to the seat at his right. He reached down to pet Liska, who had come up to sniff him.

Glad she had stopped at the inn to clean up and put on regular clothes, Selene sat down next to him. A servant stepped up and poured wine in the goblet next to her plate, and she closed her eyes with satisfaction as she sipped it. It was excellent. She carved a slice of chicken and spooned some potatoes onto her plate but avoided the leeks.

"Liska, go lie down somewhere," she ordered the fox. "No begging at the table."

"So," said Ulfric as they dined, "did you find the crown?"

"Aye," she said, reaching into her pack and retrieving the artifact. "Galmar says you owe him a drink."

"Damn him!" he laughed as he took the Jagged Crown from her and held it up to examine it. "It is quite a prize. Did you have any trouble?"

"The Imperials were waiting for us, and there were a lot of draugr. We lost a lot of good people. I hope it was worth it."

Ulfric rested the crown on the table and glared at her. "It's always tragic when we lose the men and women who fight so faithfully for us. But they took the oath, same as you, to lay down their lives for the rebellion. It was worth it to them. Do not doubt Galmar, Dragonborn, and do not doubt me."

"Don't get me wrong, my lord. If I had doubts, I wouldn't be here. I think I mentioned that tact is not my strong suit, and I tend to mutter when I'm tired. And please don't call me Dragonborn. It's a title, not a name, and it's a heavy burden."

He placed his elbow on the table and leaned toward her, looking into her eyes. "I'll make a bargain with you. I will call you by your name if you will call me by mine."

"It's a deal. Ulfric." She chuckled. "That'll take some getting used to."

"General Tullius is trying to take Winterhold from us," he announced.

"That's pretty bold, considering how close it is to Windhelm."

"He's mad if he thinks he'll succeed, but if he wants to throw his men away, I'll be happy to take them."

"Anything I can do to help?"

Ulfric took a sip of his wine and considered for a moment. "No," he said finally, "I believe Winterhold will be fairly straightforward. I have something else in mind for you. It is time to send a message to Whiterun. Balgruuf has walked the fence for too long, and it's time he made a decision." He nodded at a weapon rack near the door and the war axe that hung there. "I want you to go to Whiterun and deliver my axe to him."

"Any message?"

"For those such as Balgruuf and myself, sometimes words are unnecessary. He will discern my meaning, and his response will determine our next step. Watch yourself with him, though. The man is known for his temper."

"I know him," she pointed out. "You've done your research on me; I'm sure you know I'm Thane of Whiterun."

"I do. That is one of the reasons I'm sending you. Whiterun has remained neutral, but now one of his advisors has chosen a side. You are as much a message as the axe."

"I've never seen a challenge like this before, but I assume you're forcing his hand?"

"Exactly. If he keeps the axe, he is declaring his allegiance to me. If he returns it, it will mean he has chosen to side with the Legion. And we will take Whiterun by force."

The servants started clearing the table and refilled Selene's and Ulfric's glasses, and she followed him to a sitting area by the fireplace. Liska curled up at her feet. A sense of dread washed through Selene, and she took a long drink of wine. Balgruuf wouldn't like being called out like this. The Whiterun situation was going to get ugly, and Selene knew it. "If Balgruuf returns the axe, I'll need to warn the Companions."

"Do what you must, but Vignar will already know, and I'm sure he will inform your Harbinger." He eyed her with concern. "Are you up to this task, Selene?"

"Oh, sure. I'm not going to shy away from it just because it's unpleasant. We all have to do things we don't want to do from time to time."

He nodded his agreement. "You're wise beyond your years." He took a sip of wine and leaned an elbow on the arm of his chair. "What is your story? How did you come to be so wise at such a young age?"

"It's a tale of woe, and I don't think you would find it all that interesting."

"Indulge me. 'Selene' is a Breton name, yes? I'm curious to hear how you came by that as well. Or are you part Breton? You are small for a Nord."

"You don't have to worry; I'm a true daughter of Skyrim. My parents died when I was very young, but I've been told my mother was rather...progressive...and had a mind of her own. I would wager she just liked the name and didn't care whether it was Nord, Breton, or Khajiit."

"How did your parents die?"

Selene told him about the fight with the Imperials on the way to Windhelm, her stay at Honorhall, and Grelod the Kind. He listened with rapt attention as she recounted the tale of her adventures with her adoptive brother Ben in Cyrodiil and genuine shock at her treatment by the legionnaires who had caught them stealing and killed Ben. He laughed heartily at her claim that she had castrated the one who had tried to rape her.

"I'd say he got what he deserved," he chuckled. "A man who would force himself on a woman is not a man. You've had quite a life, Selene. And the fox?"

"A stray. She adopted me shortly after Helgen, and she follows me pretty much everywhere. I worry, though, being in the city. Elda at Candlehearth Hall has taken a liking to her and said she would take care of her when I travel, but I think Liska would be happier in a place with more trees, somewhere she could hunt."

"What of your life of crime? Did you abandon that when you joined the Companions?"

She shrugged. "I'll still do what I have to do, but I don't count myself as a professional thief these days."

"I believe I was right in offering you the position I did. We often send operatives on covert missions behind enemy lines to steal documents, eavesdrop on important meetings, impersonate key individuals to get intelligence, things I'm sure you'll be well suited for." He leveled his gaze at her, his green eyes boring into hers, sending heat up her neck and into her face. He was so handsome, and she felt like a nervous twelve-year-old, blushing in the presence of an older boy she idolized.

"I, um, should probably get back to the inn," she stammered.

"You could stay."

Selene's heart stopped. Did he just ask her to spend the night? By the Eight! This hulking, gorgeous, powerful man who was more than twice her age _was_ the older boy she idolized, and he was asking her to his bed. What a tale that would be to tell her girlfriends, if she had any.

She took a sip of her wine, hoping her voice didn't betray her emotions when she began talking. "What? And be just another trophy to place on your mantel?"

"Tell me I wouldn't be a conquest for you as well."

Selene shrugged. She couldn't deny it.

Ulfric reached out and caressed her cheek, his intense eyes still staring into hers. "You're a lovely, strong, vibrant woman, and there's not a man in the world who wouldn't want you in his bed. I have a feeling you and I would be magnificent together."

Selene got up and stepped closer to him. Even sitting, he was almost as tall as she was. She placed her hands on either side of his face, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs, then bent down a placed a soft kiss on his lips. Desire flared in his scent, and he wrapped strong arms around her and deepened the kiss. She gasped as his tongue sought hers. She closed her eyes and slipped her arms around his neck, melding to him, tasting him, devouring him. The heat spread from her neck to her very core, and she ached for him. He was right: they _would_ be magnificent together. But not tonight.

She withdrew from his delicious mouth and touched his forehead with hers. "Goodnight, my jarl," she whispered, then pulled away from his embrace and walked out the door with Liska on her heels. As she walked down the hall away from his room, she heard him laugh.

"You said you were going to call me Ulfric!" he called.

* * *

Characters and settings c. 2011 Bethesda Softworks LLC


	4. An Operative's Tale 4: Whiterun

An Operative's Tale 4

Whiterun

Selene stood before Jarl Balgruuf the Greater wearing her Stormcloak uniform, and he looked her over. "I see you've abandoned your wolf armor for different colors," he observed.

She pulled Ulfric's axe from her back, and Irileth sprang into action, stepping between her and the throne. "Relax, Irileth. I'm not going to attack the jarl." She peered around the housecarl at Balgruuf. "Jarl Ulfric asked me to give you his axe."

"Did he now? The man is persistent; I'll give him that. Irileth, you can return to your post." Irileth walked to the corner of the dais to his left, and Balgruuf took the axe from Selene and laid across his lap. He turned to Proventus Avenicci, who stood at his right. "What do you make of this, Avenicci?"

True to fashion, Proventus hemmed and hawed, babbling this and that about nothing related to the axe until he finally suggested they wait and see what Ulfric would do.

"Prey waits," Irileth asserted.

"I'm of a mind with Irileth on this," Balgruuf agreed.

"Surely you're not thinking of marching on Windhelm!" Avenicci gasped.

"I'm not a stupid man, Avenicci. But if Ulfric wants to face me as a man, he's more than welcome."

"More likely, he'll shove a dagger in your back. Look what he did to Torygg. He just walked up and murdered the boy!"

"That 'boy' was High King of Skyrim," Irileth reminded him. "And he made the challenge in open court. Whether the fight was fair is a question, but that is not _our_ question."

"No," said Balgruuf. "Rather than challenge me face-to-face, he'll likely send his Stormcloaks to do his dirty work."

Irileth nodded. "He has already shown his prowess as a man; now he will show his army's."

"My jarl, I urge you to consider General Tullius's offer to send troops. What is the harm in letting a few legionnaires die in place of our own men?"

Selene rolled her eyes.

Balgruuf furrowed his brow at Avenicci. "That seems cowardly."

"Was it cowardly to go along with the White-Gold Concordat?" Irileth dared.

Selene expected a tirade from Balgruuf in response, but he simply related his feelings on the matter. A political discussion ensued between the Nordic jarl, his Imperial steward, and his elven housecarl, probably one they engaged in from time to time to entertain themselves. She hoped they didn't expect her to chime in, because she was only now learning about the inner political workings of Skyrim, so she stood quietly and pretended to pay attention as they talked about everything from the Great War to the amount of gold the Empire sent every year to support Whiterun. At one point, Avenicci caught sight of Selene and steered the subject back to the axe.

"Perhaps we should wait and see if Ulfric is even serious."

"He's serious," Selene and Balgruuf said at the same time. Balgruuf turned his gaze on Selene. "Ulfric wants an answer; fine, I'll give him an answer." He held the axe out to Selene. "Take the axe back to Jarl Ulfric."

Selene nodded and took the sword. "My jarl—"

"No, Selene, I believe _Ulfric_ is your jarl now. You are dismissed."

She left Dragonsreach with a heavy weight on her shoulders. When he had dismissed her, he had done more than kick her out of his castle. Though he hadn't said as much, he had dismissed her as Thane as well. Selene hadn't really had much hope that Balgruuf would side with Ulfric, but she was still disappointed he had seen fit to go with the Empire. Halfway down the winding steps, she stopped and looked over at Jorrvaskr. Although she still didn't know Farkas's reaction to her sleeping with Vilkas, she still saw the mead hall as a haven. Even just looking at the building made her feel better.

"All right, Companion?" one of the guards asked as he walked by.

"Aye, I'm fine. Just lost in thought." She continued down the stairs and then up to Jorrvaskr. Torvar was the only one in the hall when she stepped in, and he raised his mug to her.

"My favorite drinkin' buddy!" he shouted. "Long time no see!"

"How are you, Torvar?"

"Oh, you know me. Always havin' a good time. Farkas is over at the Bannered Mare if you're lookin' for him."

"Actually I'm looking for Vilkas."

"Downstairs. He stays down there a lot lately. He wasn't much fun to start with, but now he's downright stodgy. They made him Harbinger after you left, you know."

"Good. If anybody can handle the job, it's him."

Selene barely got halfway down the corridor in the living quarters before she realized Vilkas's scent was different. It was fresher, less musky. More human. She found him in the office, sitting in one chair with his feet up in the other, reading a book."

"Comfy?" she asked, leaning in the doorway.

He looked up, eyes widening, and stood, coming to her with his arms out. "It's so good to see you," he said, holding her closely.

"You, too. You've been cured."

He pulled back, took her hand, and led her toward the desk. "Come, sit down. Aye, I did it about a fortnight ago. It is refreshing, but I'm afraid I'm not quite used to it yet. I didn't smell you coming down the hall. I didn't even know you were here until you spoke. You move so quietly."

"I imagine that would be disconcerting after all those years of having enhanced senses."

"It is, but the benefits outweigh the negative aspects, I assure you."

"Did Farkas get cured?"

"Not yet," he replied, disappointment showing on his face. "He's still unsure. I try not to influence his decision, but it's not easy."

"No, he has to make his own choice. How...how are things?"

"They were tense for a while, but they're better now. Farkas doesn't hold a grudge. I don't know if I should tell you this, but he's, uh, seeing someone."

Selene swallowed hard, closing her eyes tightly to prevent tears from welling. "Is it serious?"

"I don't know. It's hard to tell with Farkas. I thought he was serious about you. I'm sorry about this."

"No, no, it's good. I really am happy for him. It doesn't make it any easier to hear, though. What about everything else?"

"Acting as Harbinger didn't take as much assimilation as I would have thought. Turns out I was doing most of the administrative tasks already. I hadn't realized how much I had helped Kodlak until I started doing his job. I miss the old man, though." He pointed to a pile of documents on his desk. "We have a lot of work right now, so we're all staying busy. We're a little short-handed these days, if you catch my meaning."

"Oh, don't do that to me. You know I had to go."

He smiled at her. "I know. But we do miss you. _I_ miss you."

Selene reached out and took his hands, and he bent toward her and touched his forehead to hers. They sat that way for a long while, silently relishing each other's company. She could still smell his sadness and the age-old anger he still refused to let go of. "I wish you could be happy," she murmured.

"Not being happy doesn't mean I'm _un_happy. I'm long used to feeling this way."

"Doesn't make it right."

He released her hands, sat back and took a drink of mead. "So what do we owe your visit? I couldn't help noticing the Stormcloak armor."

"Aye, Ulfric Stormcloak actually tracked me down and recruited me. I'm not part of the regular army; I'm more of an envoy."

Vilkas chuckled. "A spy."

Selene shrugged. "In any case, I wanted to warn you. The axe on my back belongs to Ulfric. He sent me to give it to Balgruuf, and Balgruuf is returning it."

The smiled dropped from Vilkas's face, and he said, "So it's finally happening. Vignar and Olfrid have been whispering in the jarl's ear for months, urging him to choose one side or the other. I guess it was inevitable."

"I know the Companions' policy is to stay out of the war, but you need to be ready when it comes knocking at your door."

"But who to support, eh? Do we back our dear friend and eldest shield-brother, or do we defend our home against invaders?"

"And me."

Vilkas froze. "You're not going to—"

"Vilkas, I don't know what Ulfric is going to have me do. It was a political decision to send me with the axe and not someone else. I doubt my job will be finished when I return to Windhelm with the axe."

"Do you think he'd send you to kill Balgruuf?"

Selene looked earnestly into his eyes. "I trust you; you know that."

"I'll never betray your confidence, love. I'll die first."

"Ulfric has no intention of killing him," she whispered in case anyone was close enough to hear. "He wants to depose him and take the city. That doesn't mean I won't be involved."

"Very well. What do you need from us?"

"Nothing, really. I just wanted to let you know."

"I take it you're not staying long?"

Selene shook her head. "Just overnight. I'm sure Ulfric will want to get things in motion. His housecarl is bouncing off the walls, he's so eager."

She got up to leave, and Vilkas stood with her and took her in his arms. She laid her head on his shoulder and held him close, savoring the feel of his body against hers. He lifted her chin and kissed her, and Selene was tempted to stay right there with him. In one short year, Vilkas had gone from friend to enemy to lover, and after all they had been through together, he was hard to resist. She pulled away reluctantly and walked back through the living quarters, wrought with heartache and confusion.

Aela was in the mead hall, and Selene chatted with her for a few minutes before leaving Jorrvaskr and heading back to Breezehome. As she was opening the door to her house, she heard footsteps running up behind her.

"Selene!" Farkas called.

She turned around just in time for him to catch up with her and grab her up in a bear hug, swinging her around. She squealed and giggled. "Put me down, you big lug!"

Farkas put her down and followed her in the house. "I knew you'd join the Stormcloaks. Do you like it?"

"Not so much today. Ulfric has challenged Balgruuf, and it's not going to be pretty."

"Well, you can handle it. You're tough."

"I warned Vilkas that the Stormcloaks would lay siege to Whiterun."

"Don't worry. We're tough, too."

Liska was sleeping in a chair next to the fire pit, and he picked the fox up and sat down with her in his lap while Selene opened a bottle of mead, took a sip, and handed it to him. He took a drink and gave it back to her. "I'm not mad," he said, scratching the fox behind the ears.

"I'm still sorry."

"Don't be. What we had was great, but what you could have with Vilkas would be more than great."

Selene smiled sadly. Farkas always said he didn't speak well, but she didn't agree. She thought he had quite a way with words. "It can't be, though. It's just not the right time." She took a drink of mead. "He said you're seeing someone."

She could have sworn he blushed, but he said, "Saadia in the Bannered Mare. I helped her out of a bind, and I don't know; one thing led to another after that."

"Are you happy?"

"Aw, you know me; I'm always happy. But aye, I really like her. Are _you_ happy?"

Selene shrugged. "Mostly. Except for this mission, I really am enjoying being a Stormcloak. I believe in what we're fighting for."

They talked for a while and shared a couple of bottles of mead, and it was as comfortable as it had always been. She had worried that things would be tense with him after what happened with Vilkas, but he had been right: Farkas didn't hold a grudge. When it was time for him to leave, they exchanged hugs and kisses, and then he was gone.

She spent the day taking care of household issues that had cropped up while she was away, gossiping with Lydia, and trying to talk her housecarl into being somewhere else when the attack went down, but Lydia was adamant about protecting Breezehome. It wasn't just Selene's home; it was hers, and she would defend it to the death if need be. Selene understood, and she didn't press the issue further. She said a prayer to the gods for Lydia and Breezehome and left for Windhelm the next morning.

* * *

Selene felt as though she were standing in a hole as she leaned against the map table in the Palace of the Kings' war room with Ulfric and Galmar on either side of her. They towered over her, and though she wasn't easily intimidated, being flanked by the two formidable men was disconcerting.

"Balgruuf has made his choice," Galmar barked. "It is now time to act. We should march on Whiterun post haste. I've toured our camps, and we're ready whenever you are."

"Is any man ready to give an order that will mean the deaths of many?"

"Not every man is able to give that order when he must. But you are that man, Ulfric."

"Are you sure they are ready? No doubt Balgruuf will bolster his army with legionnaires. And the walls of Whiterun are old, but they still stand."

"I'm old, too. But if you give the word, I'll kick them down myself."

Ulfric laughed affectionately. "And I'm sure you could do it, old friend." His good humor didn't last, and he sighed. "I had hoped he would see reason."

"I don't think he considered your axe reasonable," said Selene. The jarl looked up at her angrily, and Selene wondered if perhaps she should have kept her mouth shut. But she hadn't, and she wasn't going to stop now. "You said yourself that Balgruuf has a temper. While I don't think his decision to side with the Empire was rash, I do believe he didn't like his hand being forced."

"And what of you? Do you think we should move on Whiterun?"

"I think I don't know enough about military strategy to offer an opinion," she hedged.

"That's a coward's excuse. You may not have the experience, but you are wise, and you see the world in a way others do not. I want to hear your thoughts on the matter."

"Whiterun is my home," she began, "and I don't want to see it destroyed. But whether the challenge was reasonable or not, you made it, and he accepted it. If you don't act, he might consider _you_ the coward."

"Fair enough. Very well, Galmar, spread the word. A new day is dawning, and the sun rises over Whiterun."

"Right away!" He turned on his heel, and left the war room.

Ulfric peered down at Selene, who maintained a tight trip on the edge of the map table. She didn't look back but stared at the table as if she were trying to bore a hole through it with her eyes.

"I don't suppose you'll want me to stay here," she muttered.

"No, you belong on the front lines. It will be your task to make it to Dragonsreach and force Balgruuf's surrender."

She looked up at him then, scowling. "And what makes you think I can defeat him? What makes you think I can even get to him?"

"You won't be alone; you'll have support. As for Balgruuf, I've seen him fight, and Galmar has seen _you_ fight. You'll have no trouble with him, I assure you. Do not kill him unless he gives you no choice, but feel free to gut that dark elf housecarl of his."

"My lord—"

"Ulfric," he interrupted with a coy smile.

Selene couldn't help chuckling. "Ulfric. While I share your hatred of the Empire, I don't share your hatred of the mer. Irileth is my friend, and I won't be gutting her on this mission unless _she_ leaves me no choice."

"I'm not used to being told 'no,'" he remarked.

She raised an eyebrow. "Even the most powerful of men should know rejection. It reminds you that you're human. It also means your advisors know they don't have to be afraid of you."

"Most everyone is afraid of me."

"Galmar isn't. _I'm_ not. The others shouldn't be, either. I heard Galmar tell you once that the people should stand behind their king because they love him. I think they should also be able to trust him. Wouldn't you rather be loved and trusted than feared?"

Ulfric's eyes gleamed with admiration. "You're an unusual woman, Selene."

* * *

Knots formed in Selene's stomach as she approached Whiterun. The city was already burning, and trebuchets on both sides were hurling flaming rocks, and the city was barely visible behind the curtain of smoke and ash. The troops were all whooping and hollering in the fervor of battle, but she couldn't share their enthusiasm. With Galmar and Ralof at her side, she did what was necessary to make it through Whiterun without injury and fortunately without killing any of Whiterun's guards. As they passed Jorrvaskr, she noticed that the mead hall was barricaded and all the lights were out. Whether it was by Vilkas's decision or Vignar's recommendation, the Companions were staying out of the fight altogether.

The guards inside the stronghold attacked when the trio walked into the room, and Ralof and Galmar cut them down without effort. Irileth came at Selene, brandishing her greatsword, but before she could engage the elf, Balgruuf stepped in.

"No!" he shouted at his housecarl. "I'll not let my castle fall without defending it. Stand aside."

Irileth stepped out of the way, and Balgruuf eyed Selene balefully. "I had thought better of you."

"We both had choices to make, Jarl. I don't want to do this."

"It's too late for that, don't you think?" He raised his greatsword to attack, and Selene blocked with her shield and swung.

Ulfric was correct: she was a better fighter than Balgruuf by far. Maybe he was just rusty after spending so much time sitting on the throne, but he was no match for her. He only managed to connect once, while Selene hit him time and again. Once she realized he would be an easy defeat, she began to pull her strikes so as not to hurt him too badly. Although she wouldn't stop the fight—he had to do that—she felt terrible, hacking on him like that. She began to worry that he wouldn't surrender, that he would let her kill him.

When Balgruuf's knees touched the floor, he finally raised a hand and said, "I surrender! It's over. Irileth, tell the men to stand down."

"_Balgruuf!"_ Vignar's voice rang through the hall before he could even get to his feet.

An argument ensued between Balgruuf and Vignar, who would take over as jarl. Selene had heard it a dozen times now. On one hand, the Empire provided much-needed resources to Skyrim; on the other, they were the Aldmeri Dominion's puppets and had outlawed the worship of Talos, whom Vignar accused Balgruuf of secretly worshiping.

After a good five minutes of back and forth, Galmar interrupted. "Gentlemen, we have a burning city with no one in charge! It's time to end this and get to the task of putting Whiterun back together. Men, take the jarl and his court into custody. Selene, get back to Windhelm and report to Ulfric. Take Ralof with you as an escort. Oh, and Ralof, I see a promotion in your future. Good work today."

"Thank you, General," Ralof said humbly.

After stopping at Breezehome to make sure Lydia was all right and there was no major damage, Selene and Ralof headed for Windhelm. One good thing about traveling with Ralof was that there were no uncomfortable silences. They talked all the way from Whiterun to Windhelm and never ran out of things to say. She didn't know what it was about Ralof, but she felt perfectly at home with him, and though she didn't tell him she was a werewolf, she found herself telling him many of her secrets. She kicked herself afterwards; no matter how much they had bonded, in truth she barely knew him. She did manage to keep the conversation away from the Whiterun campaign, although Ralof kept trying to bring up the subject.

As they sat by the fire the second night on the road, he tried again. "I can't believe Galmar offered me a promotion! Whiterun was the first major campaign I've been in. They've all been smaller scuffles like the one in Korvunjund."

"Aye, not too many big cities in Skyrim. But you weren't just in the infantry. You had a special task, and you performed it admirably."

"Must have been hard, attacking your home like that. I know you were glad the Companions stayed out of it."

A wolf howled in the distance, and Selene turned her head toward the sound. "We'll have to keep an eye out for predators. If you're ready to get some sleep, I can take the first watch." Ralof scoffed. "What?"

"Talking about it would help, you know."

"What makes you think I need to talk about it?"

"Maybe _I_ do."

"You having a rough time?"

Ralof shrugged. "I killed a lot of good men yesterday. Just because they were the enemy didn't mean they weren't good men. They believe in their cause as much as I believe in mine. I can still see the faces of every one of them as they perished, and I know I'll kill more in this war. They say it gets easier, but I don't know if that's a good thing."

Selene placed a hand on his arm. "Only a monster kills without feeling, Ralof. I think it's good that you're still shocked by the violence. I was telling someone just a few days ago that we all have to do things we don't want to do, and we do things we're not proud of. I'm sorry to say it does get easier; but until they do, you have to be sure the guilt doesn't overwhelm you, because you can't afford to falter in battle. When it comes down to them or you—and it does—I choose you."

"I'll do what I must," he assured her. "I've heard some things about Ulfric that I don't like, but I do believe he's right in his cause. I won't falter."

"No man as powerful as Ulfric is completely innocent. There are things about him I don't like, either, but I've gotten to know him, and I believe he's flawed but basically a good man."

"All right, then, what about you?"

Selene chuckled. "Quid pro quo, eh? All right. Aye, it was hard for me. I like and respect Balgruuf, and fighting him was one of the hardest things I've ever done—well, emotionally, anyway. He really is a rotten fighter. But still. I am glad the Companions stayed out of it. I told you to fight if it came down to you or your opponent, but if I came up against one of the Companions, I'd lose because I couldn't draw on them." She sighed sadly. She missed them so, and the thought of losing one of them—especially Farkas or Vilkas—put knots into her stomach.

It was Ralof's turn to lay a comforting hand on her arm. "I'll take the first watch," he said. "Go get some rest."

Selene nodded. "I think I will." She went into the tent and lay down on her bedroll, but as usual, sleep eluded her. When she did nod off, nightmares of burning shops and screaming soldiers plagued her dreams. And Balgruuf's face as he surrendered.

* * *

When they arrived in Windhelm, Ralof went to the barracks and Selene went to see Ulfric. He was in the war room, sitting at a side table with a report and a tankard of mead. She stood at his side and waited until he looked up.

"It's done," she announced. "Balgruuf has surrendered, and Vignar has taken his place as Jarl."

"This is good. _Very_ good. We control the center now, and General Tullius will be hard pressed to take it back. I will call you Ice-Veins now because the thick blood of our land has seeped into your heart."

"I don't feel worthy of such a title." She squeezed back the tears that threatened, but she was starting to fall apart and she couldn't help it. "I'm sorry."

"Talk to me, Selene," he urged her softly.

"I feel like such a traitor!" she wailed. "Balgruuf had been good to me, and he looked so disappointed in me. But more, I watched friends die, businesses I supported burning, heard the screams of children I had played tag with...it's the worst thing I ever did." The tears finally streamed down her cheeks, and she wiped them away anxiously. "So much for Ice-Veins, huh?"

Ulfric reached up and caressed her cheek. "I mentioned that you're an unusual woman, no? It is not wrong to weep for the fallen, Selene, and it does not make you weak. You've earned a rest. Take a few days and regain your strength. By then I'll have orders for you. You're still staying at Candlehearth Hall?"

"Aye," she said, sniffling.

"I'll arrange for a room for you here at the palace. Ten Septims a night can be steep, and I'm sure Elda will get tired of caring for your pet. Get your belongings and see Jorleif, and he will see that you and Liska—Liska?"

Selene nodded. "Liska."

"He will see that you and Liska are set up here. Then have dinner with me tonight."

"I'm not sleeping with you, Ulfric. Even if I _am_ living under the same roof as you."

Ulfric chuckled and stroked her cheek again. "Perhaps not tonight, but you will."

Selene wanted to be angry at him for his arrogance, but as she left the palace and made her way to the inn, she had no doubt in her mind that he was right.

* * *

Characters and settings c. 2011 Bethesda Softworks LLC


	5. An Operative's Tale 5: Checkmate

An Operative's Tale 5

Checkmate

_Author's Note: A whole lot happens in this chapter, but it all ties in with the chess theme, which I know is not lore friendly, but I can see Ulfric being a big chess player. Plus, the hubby's a chess coach, so there you have it._

* * *

Although she would have been glad to sleep in the barracks, Jorleif set Selene up in a luxurious suite on one of the palace's upper floors. He did everything he could to make sure she and Liska were comfortable and even assigned a servant to take care of the fox when Selene was away. She spent the next few weeks forcing herself to relax, although she did venture into the wilderness a couple of times, once to kill a dragon and once with a shield-brother to take care of a bandit problem for Jorleif. It was good to get out of the palace; relaxation was not for her, and she got bored easily.

During her downtime, Selene spent some time with Oengul War-Anvil, the castle blacksmith, and he helped her forge twin daggers and a new bow. All three pieces were made of fine ebony, and she was very proud of her work. The court mage, Wuunferth the Unliving, enchanted the weapons for her. After having learned firsthand how harmful flames could be, Selene had grown quite fond of weapons that did fire damage, so she had him enchant the bow and one of the daggers as such. The other dagger sent a nasty shock into the opponent. Wielding them together made for a painful and deadly combination.

She spent a lot of time with Ulfric, whether it was in the war room talking strategy, having dinner, or sitting down for a drink by the fire. He began teaching her to play chess, which he said was an excellent tool for those commanding an army and in one's daily life. "On a grand level, it is a representation of strategy and tactics for organizing companies, moving troops, and so on," he explained. "For an individual, it helps find solutions to problems and obstacles. It teaches pattern recognition and critical thinking. It can help you in your work as an operative as well."

"Well, it gives me a headache," she remarked after a particularly humiliating defeat. They had played every night for two weeks, and she hadn't beaten him yet. "I think I'm better suited for carrying out other people's strategies than planning my own."

"It also teaches patience," he said pointedly. "You underestimate yourself. You don't need to command an army to have a gift for strategy and creative thinking. In our world, everyone is a potential opponent, even our allies."

"I don't get that."

"Even the most benign disagreement is a competition, an obstacle to be overcome. If someone has something you want, what do you do?" He moved a pawn and continued to speak as the game progressed. "You start slowly, feel them out, watch them and listen, make the necessary sacrifices, all the while deploying your forces for the final attack. Then when the time is right—" looking her boldly in the eye, he took her queen "—you strike. And you never concede. The most skilled opponents will make mistakes you can capitalize upon. Whether it's on the battlefield, over the chessboard, or in personal relations makes no difference. The same tactics can be used. And you never concede. The most skilled opponents will make mistakes you can capitalize upon."

"Words of wisdom." Selene looked at the board and noticed Ulfric himself had made a fatal blunder. She moved her rook, trapping his king in an indefensible position, then looked up at him with a smug grin. "Checkmate."

"What?" His jaw dropped as he looked down at the board. "I'll be damned," he mused.

"Now here are words of wisdom for you: confidence is good; being cocky will cost you." She got up from the table and caressed his cheek, and he closed his eyes and rested his face in her open palm, covering her hand with his. She withdrew and murmured, "Goodnight, Ulfric."

* * *

Selene made her way to the practice yard one sunny, summer afternoon to work with her bow and found Ulfric sparring with one of the soldiers. Balgruuf might have let sitting on the throne make him soft, but Ulfric certainly didn't have that problem. He was quick, sharp, and fierce, and Selene had no doubt he was deadly as well. He moved like a man half his age, blocking his opponent's strikes effortlessly and connecting with his own time and again. It didn't appear that his sparring partner was allowing Ulfric to hit him; he was trying his best to keep up with the jarl. Selene stood watching him for several minutes before he noticed her and dismissed the soldier.

He came over to her and held his hand out for the bow, which she turned over to him. "Impressive craftsmanship," he remarked, looking it over.

"I had a lot of help," she replied humbly.

"You know, I've never seen you shoot."

"Then stand back." She went to an archery target and lined up her shot, sending an arrow directly into the bulls-eye. The next four arrows followed the first into the center circle, but the sixth arrow missed the target altogether. "Damn it!" she groused.

Ulfric chuckled. "It seems she's _not_ perfect," he teased her. He motioned for her to follow him to the edge of the practice yard and said, "I had planned to send for you later, but since we've run into each other here, I'll just tell you now. Galmar needs you at our secret camp in Falkreath. I believe he has a use for your special skills. Perhaps you'll get to use your new daggers as well."

"I'll leave first thing in the morning.

* * *

Selene arrived at Fort Neugrad just before noon a few days later, and Galmar sent her on ahead to meet a scouting party near the fort. "A few of our men are imprisoned there," he told her, "and you are going to get them out. After they have been rescued and you have taken out the legionnaires there, we will garrison the fort."

"Will do."

Selene met the detachment, led by Ralof, just over the hill from the fort. "Hey, you," he greeted her.

Although she knew it wasn't appropriate, she reached out and hugged him. "Hey, you."

"Galmar said you were coming. This has to go well. It's my first command since my promotion."

"Congratulations! I know Galmar had talked about a promotion, but I didn't know it had happened yet."

"Kind of ironic, us being here together today."

"Why's that?"

"It's been a year today."

Selene counted in her head, and sure enough, it had been exactly one year since the black dragon attacked Helgen, which was just up the road. She had been in the habit of saying she was with the Companions a year, but it was actually much less. So much had happened since that fateful day, it seemed longer. Crouching here with Ralof just a stone's throw from the ruined village was almost too painful. She had kept the good memories of the day, but now all the bad flooded back to her with a vengeance. Selene closed her eyes and held her breath, trying to banish the images she was usually successful at burying—the cart, the headsman, the dragon, the abject terror. As if to punctuate the memory, a dragon howled somewhere far away. Ralof didn't seem to hear it, and she wondered if it was real or if it was just her imagination.

Ralof rested a hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

Selene nodded. "I'm fine. I hadn't really been paying attention, and it was kind of a shock; that's all. What's the plan here?"

"There's a lake next to the fort, goes right up to the wall. Often, when that happens, there's a hidden entrance. Please tell me you can swim."

"Of course."

"You'll need to wait until nightfall, then explore the lake and see if they have an entrance. Sneak in and free the prisoners, then meet me and the others in the courtyard, killing every Imperial on the way. Should be fun!"

Selene socialized quietly with Ralof and the others until full dark, and then she set out for the fort with the plan to meet Ralof in the courtyard in one hour. If she didn't meet them, they would abandon the surprise attack and enter through the front, assuming she had been killed or caught. Fort Neugrad was old and crumbling like most of the others she had seen since coming to Skyrim. The toppled walls and fallen towers made good hiding places, and except for the moment it took to dart across the road, she was able to stay under cover all the way to the lake. The road led to a pier, and a small gap opened between it and the fort wall. Selene waded into the lake, hoping that the hidden entrance, if any, was close by.

The gods were smiling on her; a hole was carved in the rock no more than twenty feet from the pier. She swam through the doorway and emerged in a cave stocked with weapons, armor, and other supplies that wouldn't be subject to water damage. An iron door opened onto a storage room, and Selene figured the cave served as some sort of panic room or bolt hole.

There wasn't much she could do about her dripping armor, but she wrung her hair out before drawing her daggers and slipping into the storage room, which led directly to the prison, and the door was wide open. Not very smart, Selene thought. It made a great exit for escaping prisoners. She briefly thought of going out the way she came in, but it was better to stick to the plan. Besides, any Imperials they could kill on the way out were less they'd have to fight when they met up with the complement. She tucked herself into the shadows of the storage room while she surveyed the prison. There were four prisoners, each in his own cell. One guard sat at a table with his back to her. Almost too easy. Selene crept silently up behind the guard and slit his throat before he even knew what was happening.

"The guard has the key," one of the prisoners informed her.

She took the key and released the prisoners and kept watch while they donned their armor and retrieved their weapons, which had been dropped in a pile near the exit; then they made their way through the fort. They encountered a dozen Imperials on the way to the courtyard door and lost one man in the process, but the rest of them made it without serious injury. Ralof was waiting when she opened the door.

"We took care of the ones out here, but there are probably more inside," he said.

"Let's go back in, then."

Two hours later, the fort belonged to the Stormcloaks. They had lost three men in the attack and a few more, including Selene, had sustained non-life-threatening injuries; but no legionnaires remained alive to take prisoner. Selene congratulated Ralof as he stitched a gash in her arm. "I think your first command was a success."

He nodded his thanks. "Get back to Windhelm and report to Ulfric. We'll clean up the mess here."

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Ralof chuckled. "Cut that out!"

On the way back to Windhelm, Selene found herself comparing the operation to a game of chess. It had been exactly as Ulfric had said. Galmar had sent scouts to get intelligence and make a plan to infiltrate the fort. Ralof had sent Selene in from the rear to free the prisoners and work from the inside while he and the rest of the party went in from the front, thereby blocking all egress. Then when the time was right, checkmate.

She still had yet to figure out what Ulfric had meant when he said it could be applied on a personal level, though. For some reason, it was hard to get her head around the concept, and she busied her mind for many of the lonely hours on the road trying to work through it. How could the tactics and strategies used to move her pieces across the board help her in her work as an operative? _Well, he did say it teaches patience,_ she thought with a chuckle. But she was missing something, some tiny, hidden piece that would bring it all together. Pattern recognition and critical thinking, he had said. Perhaps she would have to put it into practice before she completely understood it.

Selene grunted at the thought. "Well, that makes no sense whatsoever."

* * *

Selene arrived in Windhelm to find a crime scene in the cemetery. Susanna, who supposedly worked at Candlehearth Hall (although Selene had never seen her actually doing anything), lay naked and bloody across a sarcophagus with a handful of townspeople standing around, gawking. One of the town guards was trying to get them to leave, but they weren't moving.

"No need to worry yourself with this, Ice-Veins," he assured Selene. "We have things well in hand here."

Selene didn't leave, either. "What happened?"

"It's Susanna. She served me a drink just the other night. Terrible thing, and the fourth one, too."

"Fourth what? Fourth murder?"

"Aye. All of them the same. Young and pretty, stabbed and mutilated."

"Who's investigating?"

The guard shrugged. "We're doing the best we can, but with the war, we're stretched thin as it is."

"Hmm. Mind if I take a look?"

"If you've got the time, feel free. You might try talking to some of the witnesses. They're not going anywhere."

She took a look at Susanna's body and wondered why in Oblivion someone would do that to a person. She had several slashes across her chest, back, and legs, a couple of them deep enough so that it appeared the killer was trying to pull something out of her. Could they be harvesting organs for some necromantic ritual? Or was it just brutal hatred that made them cut her like that?

"Did you see what happened?" Selene asked Helgird, the priestess of Arkay who had already started her burial rites.

"Er, no, but I did notice her coin purse is still intact. Whoever did this wasn't robbing her."

Silda the Unseen, Windhelm's resident beggar, didn't see anything, either. "I heard a scream and came running, but when I got here, she was already like this. It's just terrible."

While Selene talked to the woman, she felt a subtle bump on her hip, and she smiled. She hadn't even seen Silda move. She reached out and took her coin purse back, giving her a wry look. "You must be frazzled, Silda," she said. "I actually felt it when you touched me."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said the beggar, looking away humbly. "Please don't report me to the guard."

Selene slipped a Septim in her hand. "I'll make a deal with you. You stay out of my pockets, and I'll make sure yours don't stay empty."

"Oh, thank you!"

The final onlooker was Calixto Corrium, an Imperial who ran Calixto's House of Curiosities, a dubious museum on the east side of town. Selene didn't like Calixto. He reminded her of Belethor, but he was even slimier than the little Breton merchant. "Well, I, uh, saw somebody running away, but I didn't get a good look. Crying shame, isn't it?" He tsked and shook his head.

Jorleif gave Selene permission to investigate the murders while she was waiting for her next assignment. Helgird said the cuts were made by a curved embalming tool, although she didn't know who would have something like that other than herself.

The killer was sloppy and left a trail of blood from the crime scene to a vacant mansion in the northeast corner of town. The door was locked, so Selene picked her way in. The smell of death assaulted her sensitive nostrils, and her wolf spirit struggled to get free. She drooled and panted, leaning against the wall and fighting the beast, and it took several difficult minutes to regain control. Not here; she couldn't lose it here in town. Just get through this.

Although the scent of blood was pervasive, the first floor appeared empty except for a chest, which had been dragged up against a wall. Inside was a journal and a handful of flyers talking about "The Butcher." The journal was an eye opener. Someone was definitely harvesting body parts, and the necromantic ritual theory came into better focus. She found an amulet of a kind she had never seen on a bookshelf. It was made of jade, very old and worn, and carved with what might have been a face. She pocketed the amulet and moved on to a couple of wardrobes nearby. One didn't seem out of the ordinary; but the other had a false back panel, which stood ajar. She opened it and walked into a nightmare.

Human bones littered the floor, which was covered with a thick carpet of congealed blood, organs, feces, and clumps of skin. Skulls had been placed in baskets, and ribcages were piled on top of each other. A man's bloody footprints tracked across the room to an altar, on which lay part of another skeleton. Selene didn't know how many women this guy had killed, but there were more than three bodies here. Noticing a book on the altar, she tiptoed around the blood and gore as best she could and made her way across the room to retrieve the book. It was a second journal, which held a kind of necromantic recipe. "This is disgusting," she groaned. Her beast still fighting with her, she checked the rest of the house but didn't find anything else, and then she got out of town as quickly as she could and went hunting.

When she spoke to Jorleif about the evidence she had turned up, he directed her to Calixto, who said the amulet was a Wheelstone, traditionally carried by court mages. He offered to buy the amulet, but she said she would hold onto it for the time being. Jorleif also sent her to Viola Giordano, the woman who had posted the flyers around town. Viola was mostly full of gossip; but after discussing the events and the journals, she came to the conclusion that it was the court mage, Wuunferth the Unliving. "He's a dangerous man," she admonished Selene. "You should take this information to the steward right away!"

Selene liked Wuunferth. He was a bit odd, but she couldn't imagine him killing local women for a necromantic ritual. Thus, she went to see him before talking to Jorleif. "I've been investigating the murders in town," she told him, "and it appears a necromancer might be involved."

"Does it, now?"

"Evidence is pointing to you."

Wuunferth sputtered and coughed indignantly. "I will have you know I'm a full member of the College of Winterhold, and they haven't allowed necromancy there for a century or more!"

"And yet you say all the time that whatever I've heard about you is true."

"Everything but that, I assure you."

Selene held up the amulet, and Wuunferth said, "Well, it does appear that necromancy is involved; you have that much correct. That's the Necromancer Amulet, a legendary artifact created by Mannimarco. Where did you come by it?"

"It was in the house with the bodies. Wuunferth, I have your journals."

"My what, now? I've never kept any journals. I have been keeping notes about these murders, though. Just a moment." He went to a desk piled high with books and notes and picked up a sheet of parchment. "Yes, here it is. I've noticed a pattern in the timing of the killings, and I believe I can predict when the next murder will take place. From the Middas of...yes, yes." He turned to Selene. "I believe the next murder will occur sometime in the next three nights. You should keep an eye out for anything suspicious. The murders have happened in the Stone Quarter, so I'd start there."

"You do realize that if this doesn't pan out, I'm coming for you, right?"

Wuunferth smiled at her. "Oh, I'm sure you will."

The next evening, Selene dressed in dark clothing and carried her daggers to the Stone Quarter, where she ducked into a corner and watched. _Pattern recognition._ Wuunferth said he'd noticed a pattern. _Critical thinking._ That made sense now, too. She had analyzed the evidence and talked to people, drawing conclusions. Now here she was, being patient. And her patience paid off. Sometime near midnight, Arivanya, an Altmer who worked in the stables, came wandering through the marketplace. Selene had no idea why she was even there, because nobody else was around except for one of the city guards.

But then Arivanya wasn't alone. A figure crept out of the shadows just out of view of the guard, wielding a dagger. Selene drew her daggers and dashed in, cutting into the murderer just as he was bringing his blade down. The killer screamed, Arivanya screamed, and the guard screamed. Selene, however, just wiped her blades on the killer's tunic. She turned him over to reveal his face, and the guard gasped.

"Calixto!"

"I knew there was something wrong about that guy," she muttered.

* * *

"To a job well done," Ulfric toasted her, raising his goblet as they sat at dinner. Selene clinked her glass against his. "I knew you would be invaluable to the rebellion. I didn't realize what an asset you would be to my city."

"I just happened to be in the right place at the right time."

Ulfric shook his head. "You knew what you were doing."

"I finally understood what you meant about chess strategies playing into real life. It was something Wuunferth said about recognizing a pattern. It changed my whole way of thinking. I also realized something else."

"And what's that?"

"You let me win that game." Ulfric gave her a broad smile in response, and she swatted his arm. "Don't do that again. I do not need that kind of charity."

"Who says it was charity? Perhaps it was part of _my_ grand game."

"Was that the necessary sacrifice you spoke of? Or was it testing me, feeling me out? Seeing how I would react?"

"You're getting very good at this game, Selene." He stood up, took her hand, and pulled her up as well, then he took her face in his hands and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

Selene felt the kiss all the way to her toes. Her entire body tingled, and she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she opened her mouth to him. They had only kissed the one time. He had been the perfect gentleman for months and hadn't even mentioned taking her to his bed. Now she realized just what his grand game was, and he was moving in for the kill.

Checkmate.

Part of her wanted to be angry with him for charming her, being so sweet and accommodating all those months in an effort to do nothing more than to get her into bed, but she wasn't stupid. She had known all along what he was doing, and she had enjoyed the game as much as he had. But the time had come to concede. But as his mouth covered hers and drank her in, as desire surged in his scent, and as he picked her up and carried her to his bed, Selene had to wonder: was there really a loser here?

Ulfric undressed her and then himself, then lay alongside her and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her deeply, hotly as Selene ran her hands over the hard muscles of his chest, back, and arms. He trailed his fingers down her throat and cupped her breast, caressing her nipple before continuing on his path down her flat stomach and slipping his hand between her legs. He knew how to please a woman; and oh, he did, his fingers, lips and tongue producing enraptured whimpers and moans and sending delicious spasms pulsating through her body. He took her like a hero in one of the naughty romance novels that were so popular in Cyrodiil. She was the blushing ingénue, and he was the dashing knight come to rescue her from the dragon and claim his prize. The fact that the scenario couldn't be further from reality didn't matter as body moved with hers and he whispered her name.

They rested in each other's arms late into the night, and Selene lay awake for hours, listening to Ulfric's soft, even breathing as he slept. She wondered at the many scars on his torso, arms, and back. Several were burn scars, three of which were almost perfectly round and the size of a fireplace poker. She knew the Thalmor had captured and tortured him, but she hadn't thought much about it until now. The pain they must have put him through was unimaginable.

He had said they would be magnificent together, and he was right, but it didn't help her sleep. The moon was full, and her beast wanted to roam and hunt. She grew restless, but she tried to remain as still as possible so as not to disturb her lover. He sensed her unease, though, and opened his eyes.

"Having trouble sleeping?" he asked drowsily.

She rose up and propped her arms on his chest. "Am I bothering you?"

"Not at all." He leaned his head forward and brushed his lips against hers, desire flooding his scent. Warmth spread through her body, and she moaned. "If you need help relaxing, I'm your man."

He maneuvered Selene on top of himself and threaded his fingers through her hair, pulling her down to kiss her. As he ran his fingers through her hair, Selene silently told her beast she would just have to wait until tomorrow. A soft gasp escaped Ulfric's lips, and she decided her inner wolf probably wouldn't mind anyway.

* * *

Characters and settings c. 2011 Bethesda Softworks LLC


	6. An Operative's Tale 6: The Caregiver

An Operative's Tale 6

The Caregiver

A courier came the next day with a satchel of intelligence reports. A couple of Ulfric's other operatives had infiltrated Understone Keep in Markarth and one of the Imperial camps, and they had obtained loads of secret information. Selene's job over the next fortnight was to cull through the pages, summarize, and figure out a way to use the data to their advantage. Unfortunately there wasn't much in the way of useful information because most of the plans and schedules were out of date. After listening to an angry tirade from Ulfric about the speed—or lack thereof—of correspondence from The Reach, Selene found two items that were not time sensitive. Buried amid a long list of notes the spy had written about miscellaneous goings on in Understone Keep was a note questioning the loyalties of Raerek, the jarl's steward. Though he was unfailingly loyal to Jarl Igmund, who was his nephew, there were hints that Raerek secretly worshiped Talos.

"This has the potential to provide us an asset in the jarl's court," she told Ulfric. "A _hostile_ asset, but still."

"You're thinking of blackmailing the man?" asked the jarl, whom she had found sitting on his throne, staring off into space while working through some complicated scenario. He did that a lot, and Jorleif had told her he'd come up with some of his most brilliant ideas sitting there.

"You have to wonder how far he would go to keep a story like that from going public."

Ulfric nodded absently, and Selene waited while he took time to process the information. Finally, he said, "You said you found two things we could use. What's the other?"

"It's an itinerary. A courier travels between Dragon Bridge and Rorikstead on a regular basis, passing orders back and forth to another courier. The schedule rarely changes."

"A lone courier on a regular schedule? What idiot put that into place? Tullius is too smart for that."

"Even the most skilled competitors make mistakes," she smiled, throwing his own words back at him.

He returned the smile, and his green eyes sparkled. "Aye, they do."

"Should I take care of both, then?"

"No, I'll send another operative to take care of Raerek. You see to the courier; get your hands on his documents and work with the appropriate commanded to make a plan. Galmar is at our camp in Hjaalmarch, Ralof is in The Reach, and Hern is in Whiterun. I believe it's safe to assume the orders will pertain to one of the three holds. If not, I trust your judgment. Figure out what to do on your own."

"Understood. I'll leave tonight."

He reached out and took her hand. "Wait 'til morning," he suggested.

"I thought we said we weren't going to let our relationship get in the way of our duties."

"My recommendation is not entirely selfish, I assure you. A heavy snow is coming in tonight, and travel will be safer after the storm passes. Can't have my best operative getting lost in a blizzard, now, can I? And take a horse."

Selene rolled her eyes. "Ulfric, we've been over this. I can't hide with a horse. What if I have to ambush this courier? Can't very well do that with a thousand-pound horse hanging around."

"You're stubborn."

"So you tell me."

"Fine, no horse. Just make the best time you can."

Selene spent the afternoon playing with Liska and preparing for her trip; and she spent the night with Ulfric, fire banked and extra furs on the bed, as they took shelter from the foul weather and kept each other warm. While she was by no means in love with the man, Selene was happy. They were amazing in bed together, and they filled each other's nights with passion and ecstasy. He had a temper, and he had a tendency to speak in platitudes as though she were some random subject he could lull with what Selene liked to call "political bullshit." She wasn't afraid to call him down, however, and though such interactions resulted in a few arguments, but they normally got along very well. She enjoyed his company, and in addition to being lovers, they were friends and confidantes. She also had to admit it was exciting being the mistress of the most powerful man in Skyrim. They had created quite a buzz in Windhelm—the Jarl and the Dragonborn, a romance for the ages.

The next morning, Selene kissed Ulfric goodbye and left for Rorikstead. The Penitus Oculatus, the emperor's espionage organization, had a post in Dragon Bridge, so she decided Rorikstead was a better base. She abandoned her Stormcloak cuirass and wore her wolf armor so as not to get any unwanted attention from the Imperials. With fresh snow covering the roads, going was slow and it took her five days to reach the hamlet. The best place to get information about a town was the local pub, so Selene made her way to the Frostfruit Inn.

"Greetings, traveler," said the innkeeper when she set foot inside. "If you're looking for food and a warm bed, we have both."

Selene sat down at the bar. "I'll take both, then. And some mead."

"Long trip?" he asked as he drew a tankard of mead and set it before her.

"Aye, all the way from Eastmarch. There was a snowstorm, and it took a while."

"Where are you headed?"

"Here, actually. I'm looking for a courier."

The innkeeper furrowed his brow. "I'm not in the habit of revealing the whereabouts of my patrons."

She leaned over the bar and gave him a soulful look, setting her lips in a coquettish pout. Flirting couldn't hurt. "Is there any way I can convince you to tell me where I can find him? It's very important. His life is in danger."

He looked Selene over, and she batted her eyes at him. "Well, if he's in danger, that makes all the difference. We see him every other day, usually around midday. He should be here at noon tomorrow if you'd like to stay and wait for him."

"I think I'll do that. Thank you. Now, how about some dinner? What do you have that's good?"

She sat with the innkeeper, who said his name was Mralki, for a few hours, chatting about the war, which Selene said she knew very little about. He noticed the wolf armor and asked if she was a Companion.

"My son Erik has mentioned becoming a Companion. He wants to be an adventurer, but how can I let him go out in the world? He's lived here all his life. Perhaps I shelter him too much, but what kind of father doesn't want to protect his son?"

Selene thought of Jergen and how he left Farkas and Vilkas to go to war and never came back. What kind of father indeed. "But he's a grown man, isn't he? He should be allowed to make his own decisions."

"I understand; I do. But even so, he can't be an adventurer without armor, and I can't afford to pay for armor for the boy."

Her heart went out to the man. It was obvious that he wanted the best for his son; he just didn't know how to give it to him. "What if I could help?" She reached into her coin purse and counted out one hundred Septims. "This should be enough to get him some basic armor. Get him outfitted and then send him to Whiterun. I'll write a letter to the Harbinger of the Companions asking him to train Erik."

"You would...do that for us?"

Selene laughed. "At one time, I'd have said, 'Sorry about your luck.' I think I'm getting soft in my old age."

The next morning, she thanked Mralki for his hospitality and went to meet the courier. She camped atop a large rock a few miles out of town and watched the north road, arrow nocked and ready for the Imperial. It was a clear day and low winds were out of the south, so getting off a good shot shouldn't be a problem. She would have to make the one shot count, though, because if she missed, she wouldn't have time to reset and would have to wait until he headed north again—unless, of course, he detected her and attacked, which would be fine, too. Whatever worked.

As the sun reached its peak, the soldier came running up the road, and she took aim. She held her breath and tracked him as he moved closer, her eyes peeled for inconsistencies in his movement. But he ran straight and true, and as he neared her, she pulled the bow up short and aimed just in front of him. The arrow hit him in the shin, and he dropped to the ground with a cry of pain and frustration. Selene drew her sword and climbed down from the rock.

The courier broke the arrow off and struggled to his feet, drawing his sword. He limped toward her, brandishing the weapon. "You've just made your last mistake, bandit."

He swung at Selene, but she struck his blade with hers, slapping it out of the way. They traded blows for a few minutes, both taking minor cuts; but the soldier had been running all day and was fighting with an arrow in his leg, so it was easy to wear him down. He grunted and groaned with the exertion, his stamina running out quickly. Selene bided her time, waiting for him to falter. He finally did, turning his head unconsciously to cough, and Selene took advantage and sliced deep into his torso. The courier fell dead, and she took hold of his feet and dragged him off the road.

When she was safely hidden, she took his satchel and examined the contents. The courier traveled light and carried only some food, a bottle of mead, some first aid supplies, and a leather pouch with the Imperial insignia emblazoned on it. Inside the pouch was a letter from General Tullius to Legate Taurinus Duilis in Morthal. Evidently, the legate had asked for reinforcements at Fort Snowhawk, but Tullius had denied his request. Intelligence indicated that the Stormcloaks were moving toward other installations and Snowhawk didn't need reinforcements at this time.

"Hjaalmarch it is," Selene whispered to herself. On impulse, she stripped the courier naked and stuffed as much of his armor as she could into her knapsack and the rest into his, along with his coin purse, the first aid gear, and the Imperial pouch. Then she headed for Galmar's camp.

"Let's see what you got," the general requested when she arrived at the camp late that evening. "Hmm, this is not good. They know more of our plans than I thought. We'll need to make some changes. However, knowing what _they_ know evens the odds a bit."

"I figured we could forge a letter I could take to Legate Duilis in Morthal. I swiped the courier's uniform, and it actually fits. Those Imperials really aren't known for their stature."

He looked up at her incredulously. "You took his uniform?"

"He thought I was a bandit. What better way to prove him right than take everything he had and leave him naked on the side of the highway?"

Galmar chuckled. "Clever girl. All right, let's see what we can do." He sat down with a quill and a piece of parchment and composed a letter for Selene to take to the legate. "This should give them the wrong idea and us the advantage. Get some food and rest before you go, and for Talos' sake, take a horse. The sooner we get that letter into Duilis's hands, the better. Report back here when you're done."

Morthal was just a two-hour ride from the camp, and Selene found Legate Duilis in Highmoon Hall, the jarl's longhouse. He was standing before a map in a room just off the great hall, studying the red and blue banners as if he'd never seen them before. He looked Selene up and down critically. "Where's Sven?"

"New orders, sir. I believe he's headed for Solitude."

The legate nodded with satisfaction. "Good for him. He's a good man. What do you have for me?" Selene handed him the pouch, and he opened it and read the letter, then smiled.

"Good news, sir?"

"Aye. Reinforcements are on the way, and we have some intel on enemy troop movements. What's your name, soldier?"

"I'm Helga," she lied.

"We don't have enough women in the legion. Glad to see you're up to the challenge." He reached into his coin purse and pulled out a gold coin, which he tossed to her. "Go have a drink at the Moorside before you head back."

Selene was happy to spend the legate's coin before heading back to Galmar, who was very pleased. "Ulfric thinks you can do no wrong, and I'm starting to believe it as well. I'm glad he was right about you. Get back to Windhelm; give Ulfric a full report. We'll pay Fort Snowhawk a visit."

"Will do."

It was getting late, so Selene stayed the night at camp and set out the next morning. She headed east out of Hjaalmarch and into The Pale, where she would pick up the road south just after lunchtime. The morning sun glinting off the snow-covered hills hurt her eyes and blurred her vision. She didn't like to wear a helmet, but this morning she wished she had one to cut down on the glare.

With her eyes strained as they were, she didn't see the sabre cat until it was right on top of her. She didn't have time to shoot at it, so she dropped her bow and drew her sword as quickly as possible, but it got to her first and swiped at her midsection. There was no pain, so she figured the cat had missed. He set his back legs so he could claw at her with his front paw, and Selene took the opportunity to swing at him, managing to take one of his feet clean off. The cat roared and rolled to the ground, swiping and snapping in a panic, and Selene lunged at him, burying the blade deep into his abdomen. He died with a groan, and she removed the sword and wiped the blood on his fur before moving on.

She didn't get far before the pain started. She touched her belly, and her hand came away covered with blood. "Well, shit," she muttered. The sabre cat's razor-sharp claw had managed to slash through the wolf hide at the bottom of her breast plate, and she probably didn't feel it because the cut was so precise. It must have been pretty deep, because she was trailing a lot of blood. Fortunately, she had passed a cave not too far back where she could go to stitch herself up and take a healing potion.

Selene found the cave and settled in. She took her armor off and swooned at the sight of one of the worst wounds she'd ever had. It was six inches long and cut all the way to her rib. She had seen many bodies torn up worse than this in her life, but this was different; it was hers.

"Sweet Kynareth," she gasped. "Okay, keep your head together. Healing potion, needle and catgut. Farkas, I could really use you right now. You're so good at sewing people up." She tried to hold the incision together with one hand while she dug in her pack for first aid supplies, but the blood still flowed. She found a potion, pulled the cork with her teeth and drank it in one long swallow, then found her needle and a role of catgut and went about stitching the wound. She was dizzy, not surprising after the amount of blood she had lost, but she persisted until it was fully closed and she tied the string off. She counted twenty stitches.

After wrapping a bandage around her midsection and putting on a tunic she had packed, Selene drank another healing potion, laid out her bedroll, and climbed inside. She would be weak from the blood loss, so she should probably rest up for a day or two. It was noon when she closed her eyes, planning to doze for a bit and then get up to build a fire.

* * *

_4:00 p.m._  
It was cold, and she shivered. She curled into a ball and snuggled farther down into her bedroll. She was going to have to get up and build a fire soon. Just as soon as the pain subsided. That potion should kick in anytime now.

* * *

_Midnight  
_She lay curled up in her bedroll, chills running down her spine and pain wracking her abdomen. The healing potion should have started working by now. Shouldn't it? It had been an hour or so since she had taken it. Maybe she should drink another one. But her knapsack was too far away, and she didn't have the energy to go get it. She really needed to get up and build a fire. Soon.

* * *

_9:00 a.m._  
She opened her eyes to see the sabre cat sitting across the cave, staring at her. He held the stub of his severed leg up to show her. "Why did you have to do this?" he asked in Vilkas's voice. "If you hadn't cut off my paw, I would have won the fight and eaten you."

"That's why I had to do it," she mumbled.

"It wasn't much of a fight, though, was it? Feral hunter, you should have shifted to your beast form so we could have a proper battle."

"Beast form. Good idea. But later. I'm tired now."

"I'll just wait right here."

* * *

_Sometime later in the day_  
The pain had spread throughout her entire body, and she felt like she was going to throw up. She dragged herself to her hands and knees and crawled to the other side of the cave, but although she retched, nothing came out. Dry heaves. Lots o' fun there. She started to crawl back to her bedroll, but it was too far. She just lay down where she was.

* * *

_Fifty years later_  
Nah. It wasn't that long, was it? It just _felt_ like fifty years. She should have built that fire ages ago.

The sabre cat was there again. He picked her up and carried her back to her bedroll. "You'll be more comfortable over here, don't you think?" he said. "Now, you lie still while I check out this wound."

"What? Are you going to cut into me again? Finish the job?"

"I'm not here to hurt you; I'm trying to help you."

"Oh. Okay."

The sabre cat pressed gently on the wound, and pain rocketed through her body. She screamed and lashed out at the beast with a fist, but he caught her arm and said, "I know it hurts, but I have to look at it to see what I need to do."

She realized the sabre cat didn't have paws at all but hands, and he had both of them. The image of the snarling animal faded and coalesced into that of a man. He was handsome, with brown hair and pale, gray eyes. "You're not a sabre cat," she mumbled.

"You're right; I'm not. Now, be still." He didn't touch the slash again, but he examined it closely. "Hmm. It doesn't look good. You have some infection."

"I'm immune to disease."

"Evidently not."

"You're pretty," she mused. "Not as pretty as Farkas, but still."

"Can you sit up?"

Selene tried, but she couldn't manage it on her own, so he lifted her head onto his lap. "Here, drink this," he instructed. He held a bottle to her lips and poured bitter liquid in her mouth.

She coughed and sputtered at first, but she finally managed to take a few swallows. "What was that?" she asked.

"A potion of cure disease."

"I'm immune to disease."

He chuckled. "Very well, whatever you say. Listen to me. I'm going to give you something else to help you sleep, and I'll redo your stitches. Whoever put them in didn't do a very good job."

"I was woozy. You're pretty."

He reached for another bottle and raised it to her lips. She drank, and after only a couple of minutes her eyelids started to feel heavy. It was nice to rest. As a werewolf, she didn't get to...

* * *

Selene opened her eyes to find herself drenched in sweat, but her mind was clear and the pain in her side was better. The man sat close by, watching her sleep. He was wearing the uniform of an Imperial soldier, and Selene's first instinct was to get up and fight, but she was too weak.

"You're awake," he observed. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to."

The words sounded familiar. Hadn't Ralof said that to her once? "How long was I out?"

"About a day and a half. You had a bad infection and a high fever."

"Did you resew my stitches?"

"Aye. I'm assuming you did it yourself the first time."

"Didn't do such a good job, eh?"

He chuckled. "Not so much. I know a little healing magic as well, but I don't know how much it helped. How do you feel?"

"Weak but better. Hungry."

"That's a good sign. I've got some stew in the kettle." He went to the fire and served up a bowl of piping-hot venison stew, then propped her up against his knapsack and fed her, being sure to blow on each spoonful so as not to burn her mouth. "I'm Hadvar," he told her. "What's your name?"

"Selene."

"Selene? I thought you looked—were you at Helgen when the dragon attacked?"

"I was—hey, you were the one who helped me get through Helgen!"

"Aye, before Ralof—" He stopped and grimaced.

"Seems I remember you saying you hoped we both went to Oblivion."

"We say a lot of things in the heat of the moment. I wouldn't wish that on anybody. Even Ralof."

"He said you used to be friends."

"The best. We grew up in Riverwood together." He chuckled as he fed her a spoonful of stew. "Caused no end of heartache for our parents. One time when we were around ten, we painted a farmer's cow with green spots. Our fathers beat us black and blue for that, but it was worth it. We played 'war' a lot. Both of us wanted to be soldiers when we grew up, and I guess we got our wish."

"I bet you didn't think you'd be fighting on opposite sides."

"No, we surely didn't."

"There are a pair of men in my hometown who have the same problem. They were like brothers, but they chose opposite sides in the civil war. One of them has vowed to kill the other. Makes me sad."

"I hope I never come up against Ralof. I don't know if I _could_ kill him. Seeing him bound for the block was...it was hard."

"But you taunted him. I remember."

"I shouldn't have. What do _you_ do? By your armor, I'd guess you're a Companion. You also talked in your sleep and mentioned Farkas and Vilkas."

"You know them?"

"Are you kidding? The Companions are known far and wide."

"Did I mention anybody else?"

"Somebody named Ben and Liska. Nobody else, though."

Selene couldn't tell if he was lying, but she had trouble believing she hadn't mentioned Ulfric. She certainly wasn't going to bring it up. Thus, she changed the subject. "How'd you find me?"

"I was on my way to Dawnstar and saw the trail of blood leading to the cave. I found you curled up in a corner, feverish and delirious. Recognized you right away; I just couldn't place where I knew you from. So what attacked you? Bear? Sabre cat?"

"Sabre cat. I remember thinking you were him for a while."

Hadvar chuckled. "I've been called a lot of things in my day, but that's a new one."

"Hadvar, I can't thank you enough for taking care of me. If I can ever make it up to you, I will."

"Just take care of yourself. That's payment enough."

Selene convalesced for a week before Hadvar took her stitches out. In that time, she never told him she was a Stormcloak, just let him believe she was merely a Companion. They talked about combat and their families, and she told him about the death of her parents, Honorhall, her teen years with Ben, and the fateful night that put her on the path to return to Skyrim.

"Shor's beard," he muttered. "Surely don't think all Imperials are like that. _I'm_ not like that."

"Every interaction I've ever had with Imperial soldiers, save this one, has been the same."

"But a few bad Imperial soldiers do not define the Empire."

"Then what does?"

"The Empire takes care of its people, assists them with coin and provisions. It protects them from the oppression of the Aldmeri Dominion."

"How do you figure?" Selene challenged him. "It seems to me the signing of the White-Gold Concordat made us all subject to their oppression."

"No, it protected us. We might all be dead or enslaved if not for that treaty. Besides, there are ways around everything; I'd wager you know that. Just because we are loyal to the Emperor does not mean we're loyal to the Dominion. We just make sacrifices so as not to be overrun by them."

"Like abandoning Talos?"

Hadvar leveled a glare at her. "Many of us secretly worship Talos."

"Do you?"

"Aye, I do," he confessed. "I just do it quietly. But the rebellion doesn't see all that. They see the Empire as oppressors, bugs that must be squashed."

"You don't see the Stormcloaks that way?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps we do. Traitors and scoundrels that must be put down. But cut off the head of a snake and the rest will founder. Someday General Tullius will take Ulfric Stormcloak's head, and this will all be over."

A sinking feeling spread throughout Selene's body when she thought of someone killing Ulfric. Yes, the notion that the rebellion would die was upsetting, but the thought of the man dying chilled her to the core.

"Are you all right?" Hadvar inquired. "All the color just left your face."

"I admire Ulfric very much, and I don't like the thought of him killed," she admitted. "And frankly, I don't like the thought of you as an enemy."

"You and I are not enemies, Selene."

When the stitches came out, Harvar urged her to stay another couple of days and continue to gain strength. Selene told him she would, but she secretly planned to leave that night. As soon as she was sure he was asleep, she silently donned her wolf armor and packed her knapsack. She looked through his pack and found an Imperial pouch containing a letter for Skald the Elder, Jarl of The Pale. Apparently, he was going to have an important guest at the end of the month. Hadvar had some clean parchment in his pack, and she quickly jotted down all the pertinent information in the letter and stuffed it back in the pouch. Then she wrote him a note.

_Hadvar,  
I don't know how to thank you for all you've done for me. You've saved my life twice now, and I'll not soon forget it. But I can't burden you anymore. You have places you need to be, so I'll take my leave. Take care of yourself, and know this: if someday, for some reason, we are ever at odds, I will not draw on you. I owe you my life, and I won't take yours.  
Best,  
Selene_

She folded the note and placed it beside his bedroll, then slipped out of the cave and made her way back to Windhelm.

* * *

Characters and settings c. 2011 Bethesda Softworks LLC


	7. An Operative's Tale 7: Diversion

An Operative's Tale 7

Diversion

Selene arrived at the Palace of the Kings late in the afternoon on her second day of travel and went straight to her room, plopping down on her bed. Liska was like an excited puppy, jumping into her lap and licking her face, practically squealing with joy. Selene hugged the fox and stroked her fur affectionately. "I missed you too, little one."

The door burst open and Ulfric barged in, his face ashen and dark circles under his eyes. Selene set Liska on the floor and stood up, and he stalked across the room and took her face in his hands, kissing her almost desperately before wrapping his arms around her. "Where were you? I thought I'd—_we'd_—lost you."

"I was injured in a fight with a sabre cat, and the wound got infected. Fortunately, a kindly stranger happened along and nursed me back to health."

Ulfric pulled away and looked her over, only now noticing the dried blood on her armor. He started undoing the straps of her breast plate. "Let me see."

She took the breast plate off and lifted her undershirt to show him the jagged scar. He trailed a finger across it gingerly. "Does it still hurt?"

"Aye, it's sore, but it's much better. It probably will hurt for a while."

"I'm sure you're exhausted. Rest tonight and join me for breakfast."

"May I rest in your room?"

"Do you think you need to ask? Get cleaned up and settled, and I'll have one of the staff bring you some dinner. I, unfortunately, am in a meeting I can't get out of, but I will be there later tonight." He kissed her forehead and left the room.

One of the maids drew a bath, and Selene immersed herself in the water, relieved to be warm for a change. The chills that had plagued her with the fever and then cold, snowy weather on the way home had soured her love of the north and made her long for the warm breezes of Cyrodiil. It was the first time since she had come to Skyrim that she actually felt homesick. But it was only the weather she missed. If she were still in Cyrodiil, she'd probably be camped out in some cave or mine, and there would be no handsome jarl to have his servants draw a hot bath, no soft bed to slip into, and no adorable fox sitting on the floor, cooing at her. There would be no home halfway across the province that she could always return to, no mead hall full of family and friends to welcome her and share a mug with. She would be alone. With that thought, the cold weather didn't bother her anymore.

After her bath, she dressed in a nightshift and slippers and padded through the halls to Ulfric's room, where dinner was laid out for her. Selene hadn't realized how hungry she was until she smelled the succulent roast that sat on the platter before her. She took a long drink of mead and dug in, and when she was full she went to Ulfric's bed and crawled in, snuggling beneath the covers. The sheets and blankets were warm and soft, and the weight made her feel as safe and snug as a swaddled infant. Liska hopped on the bed and curled up at her feet, and Selene sighed contentedly as she drifted into a dreamless sleep. Even her wolf spirit dozed, abandoning her urge to hunt for a while.

Sometime in the night, Ulfric nestled into bed next to her, and he took her in his arms as she laid her head on his chest and draped her thigh over his leg."Hmm, you're warm," he mused as she wrapped herself around his cool body. "This bed was far too cold without you in it."

She propped up on her elbow and shifted so that she was lying on top of him. "Then let me warm you," she whispered, lowering her head to kiss him.

* * *

As the maids were setting breakfast on the table, Selene went to her room and retrieved the copy of Hadvar's letter. She gave Ulfric a more detailed synopsis of the events in the cave with Hadvar and even went so far as to explain how they had all met before. He was less than enthusiastic about the fact that Selene had left him alive.

"He saved my life, Ulfric. There would have been no honor in taking his. Besides, we don't know the meaning behind that letter. We may _want_ him to deliver it successfully."

Ulfric read the letter several times and looked up at her, brow furrowed. "This makes no sense," he barked. "It says a Thalmor agent will pay a visit to the jarl of The Pale on the 30th of Frostfall. But why? The Stormcloaks have possession of The Pale. We've taken every hold save Haafingar, and Dawnstar is well behind enemy lines. And they expect us to believe they're sending a Thalmor emissary for a visit? It must be a ruse of some kind."

"Could the letter be encoded?"

"I'll have my cryptographers look at it. Something else concerns me, though. I cannot help wondering if the date is coincidence or if it is significant."

"How so?"

"The Great War began on the 30th of Frostfall."

"Maybe that's when they want to end _this_ one," she supposed.

"Take a horse and get up to Dawnstar to see if Skald got the letter. Don't argue with me about the horse; time is of the essence. And take care. Skald is up in years and he's a bit...off."

"Dangerous?"

"Doubtful. But he can be unpredictable. I want to know his take on this, and that of his advisors, but I also want you to watch and listen while you're there. If the Thalmor _are_ visiting Dawnstar, there could be a traitor in our midst."

After breakfast, Selene prepared for the trip and went to the stables, where she took a horse and rode to Dawnstar. The weather was on her side and there were no dragons, bandits, or wild animals to deal with on the way; and she tied her horse up outside the Windpeak Inn just before dusk. Two town guards came down the street with a third man between them, one she knew well. It was Hadvar. He was still wearing his Legion uniform, but he had wrapped a white flag around his arm, a sign that he was in Dawnstar on a diplomatic mission. The guards weren't impressed.

"All right, you've delivered your letter; now get out before we give you a room in our jail." He gave Hadvar a push to drive the point home.

"Then to Oblivion with you!" Hadvar snarled, storming up the path and passing Selene without seeing her, then leaving town by way of the south road.

Selene wondered what had kept him. A trip that should have only taken him a day took three. She would probably never know, though, so she put it out of her mind as she watched until he was out of sight; then she made her way up the road to the White Hall, where she found another ruckus. Jarl Skald sat on his throne, hands gripping the arms until his knuckles were white, glowering at a middle-aged woman and a man in a legionnaire's uniform. His housecarl stood dutifully on his right with his hand resting loosely on his war axe, and a man in a Stormcloak officer's uniform stood on his left, arms folded.

"Divines' sake, Skald," the woman griped. "Who do you think we're threatening? We're not soldiers anymore."

"Your man Horik here parades around town wearing his old Legion armor every day. What should I make of that, Brina?"

"He's proud of his service, Skald. The Legion taught us loyalty."

"And what of your loyalty to Dawnstar?"

"We're loyal to Dawnstar."

"Then explain this." He waved a letter at her.

"My Jarl, I swear to you we had nothing to do with that. We don't even know if the Legion was involved anyway. Perhaps this is a diplomatic mission."

Skald looked at the woman like she had grown horns. "A diplomatic mission, you say? To the jarl of a minor hold in the middle of enemy territory, who has always made his loyalty to the Stormcloaks no secret? And if the Legion isn't involved, why send an Imperial soldier to deliver the letter, eh? Just what kind of fool do you think I am?"

"I'm sorry, Skald. I just—"

"You just what?" he challenged her. "Now, see here. I have no proof that you and Horik were involved in this little...whatever it is, so I'll let you go. But know this: if I find out you _were_ involved, or if I catch you writing so much as a word to General Tullius, I'll have you both executed. Now get out of my keep!" When they stepped out of the way and Skald saw Selene's uniform, he waved her over. "You, there! Get over to Windhelm. We've just gotten a letter saying the Thalmor are on their way and I want to know what Ulfric Stormcloak's going to do about it."

"Actually, I came from Windhelm, Jarl."

"You're not one of his?" He pointed to the Stormcloak officer. "Then who are you?"

"Ulfric sent me about the letter."

"Well, what's he going to do about it? Wait. How did he know? I just received it twenty minutes ago."

"One of our operatives managed to get a copy of it before it arrived here."

Skald nodded with satisfaction. "Good work. Now. What is Ulfric going to do about it? I've asked you three times now, and I expect an answer!"

"We wanted to see first if the letter actually got to you, which it has, but we're not certain it's on the up and up. It may be a ruse to distract us while they do something else."

"What could they possibly need a distraction for?"

"Any sort of covert or military operation would benefit from a diversion," the officer mentioned. He nodded to Selene. "I am Commander Frorkmar Banner-Torn. Our esteemed housecarl and captain of the guard is Jod. Have a drink at the Windpeak Inn; stay for the night while we discuss strategy."

"I'm here to discuss strategy as well," she assured him, noticing he hadn't bothered to ask who she was.

Frorkmar chuckled. "That's sweet, but why don't you leave this to the big boys?"

Selene's first instinct was to tell Frorkmar exactly who she was, but then she thought better of it. Though it was unlikely, there was always a chance that Skald or someone in his court was actually working with the Thalmor. Left to her own devices, she could easily, and discreetly, get her own intelligence. Thus, she nodded and stammered, "I'll, um, just come back tomorrow, then."

The jarl waved her away, and she walked to the inn and got a room. She stayed long enough to empty her knapsack of everything but a set of dark clothing, and she left. Behind the building, she changed clothes and snuck down the alley behind the barracks until she reached the White Hall. Muffled voices seeped out through the cracks in the old wall, and Selene hunkered down at the corner of the house, leaning her ear closely to listen in.

"I don't care if Emperor Titus Mede himself is coming for a visit. I said I wanted grilled leeks for supper!"

"Supper's over, my Jarl. We were talking about the letter from the Thalmor ambassador."

"I can't be bothered with that anymore."

"This is serious, sir."

"It is? Oh, well, then. What do you think we should do?"

Selene rolled her eyes as she listened to the commander and the housecarl making futile attempts at keeping Skald's attention. She listened for a couple of hours as Frorkmar and Jod played through one scenario after another. What if it was a legitimate gesture in the hope of finding peace? What if they were correct in the notion that it was a ruse and was to be used as a diversion from nefarious activities elsewhere? What if it was no more than a practical joke? She listened for subtext, hidden meanings in their words, something that would warrant further investigation, but nothing they said gave her an indication that any of them was less than honorable. She couldn't see their body language, of course, but she could smell them from here, and they weren't lying.

In the end, the men decided to recommend precautions to Ulfric. They would prepare to host the Thalmor on 30 Frostfall, but they would encourage bolstering security in all the major hold cities on and around that date. Current business taken care of, they began discussing more mundane things, most notably a local issue that involved several townspeople having recurring nightmares. Nobody in town had gotten a good night's sleep in weeks. A priest of Mara who lived at the Windpeak Inn was looking into the problem, but the situation was making for some very disgruntled villagers. Then there was the black door, whatever that was. Some children had been playing around it against their parents' admonitions, and it had spoken to them. A talking door? Sounded to Selene like a talking wall, and she knew all about those. She'd have to come back when time permitted and look into that.

After a while, the conversation turned to small talk, and then it faded to nothing as Frorkmar left for the barracks and Skald and Jod started to drift toward their beds. Trying futilely not to lament the fact that she was cold again, Selene waited until she hadn't heard anyone speak for a couple of hours before creeping toward the front of the house. Stepping slowly and softly so the snow didn't crunch beneath her feet, she inched toward the northwest corner of the building to look for guards. There was only one, and she was posted on the opposite corner at the bottom of the steps leading up to the door. Selene could easily slip past her to get inside. She peeked left and right to ascertain that no one was coming down the road, then she slid along the front wall behind some decorative bushes until she reached the step. Lifting her foot onto the platform, she silently pulled herself up. She was exposed now, out in the open; if the guard turned around or somebody came down the street, she was caught. Better to get inside quickly. Reaching behind herself, she gently pulled the latch on the door, then pushed it inward just far enough to squeeze through, raising her free arm above her head to block any excess light that might shine out through the crack.

The front hall was empty and quiet, except for Jarl Skald's thunderous snoring, which echoed throughout the building. Snoring was good; it helped muffle her footsteps. She crept through the hall to his bedroom and rifled through stacks of papers on and around his desk, then looked through his dresser and nightstand as well, searching for some indication that he was up to something untoward; but there was nothing suspicious in the jarl's room. A thorough check of the other rooms in the hall also turned up nothing. Getting into the barracks was more of a challenge because some of the guards were still awake, as was Frorkmar. She managed to sneak past the guards, but she had to wait more than an hour for Frorkmar to go to sleep before she could go through his things. Finally, satisfied that no one was a traitor—or at least a careless one—she snuck out the door and behind the inn to retrieve her uniform.

* * *

Ulfric sent encoded orders to all military camps and holds in his possession with instructions to increase security on and around 30 Frostfall due to an implied threat. In the meantime, he utilized all his available resources to look for signs of imminent action. The cryptographers uncovered no hidden code in the letter, and military scouts found nothing to indicate unanticipated troop movements. There were still pockets of Imperials scattered about Skyrim, but even they were behaving as expected. The word from Solitude was that General Tullius was starting to panic with Ulfric camping on his doorstep, but there was nothing to indicate that the Legion was involved in any activity, covert or otherwise, having to do with 30 Frostfall. Spies inside the Thalmor embassy also came up empty handed. If they _were_ planning something, they were doing it very quietly.

When the big day came, the presence of extra guards in the city and palace was evident, but otherwise it was business as usual. Ulfric discussed the push to Solitude with Ysarald Thrice-Pierced, who acted as his housecarl when Galmar was away; and Selene spent her morning going over intelligence reports. Ulfric had sent an operative to Riverwood to watch Delphine, and he had returned with information. She discussed it with Ulfric at lunch.

"She has made two trips in the past months," Selene noted, "both to dragon burial mounds, and she had a map of the burial sites on a table in her secret room beneath the inn, as well as many books on dragons, the history of the Empire, and the Blades."

"What about weapons?"

Selene skimmed through the notes. "Greatsword, bow, katana—"

"Katana?"

"Aye, that's what it says."

"That's an Akaviri sword. Perhaps she's a Blade."

"But the Blades were disbanded at the beginning of the Great War," she protested.

"That does not mean some of them don't still work in secret. Before they guarded the Emperor, they were noted dragon slayers. And they served the Dragonborn."

"So you think I should go back and talk to her?"

Ulfric shrugged. "It is your choice. I drew my conclusion on information that was sketchy at best. We'll keep our eyes and ears open for a while and see what else turns up."

"What about the Thalmor? She said she went to all that trouble to make sure I wasn't working for them."

"I'll mention it to my scouts in Solitude and they can search the embassy."

Selene trained during the afternoon, spent some time playing with Liska, and sat in on Ulfric's meeting with Ysarald, which lasted well into the evening. Most of the military tactics were beyond her, but she kept up as best she could. A few hours after sunset, they decided to knock off for the day and reconvene the next morning.

"It's been a quiet day," Ysarald commented, noting the lack of incident. "If something happened, it must have occurred elsewhere."

"Keep the extra security for now," Ulfric instructed him. "The other holds and camps have orders to report back beginning tomorrow, so we should get word from each of them in the next few days."

As Selene accompanied him up the stairs to his room for dinner, she said, "You don't think the Thalmor actually did go to Dawnstar, do you?"

"It seems unlikely. Not knowing makes me uneasy."

His unease spread to her as they stepped into his room and an unfamiliar scent filled her enhanced nostrils. Ulfric didn't know she was a werewolf, so she couldn't tell him what sent the chill down her spine. Instead, she stopped at the door and spoke to the guard who stood there. "When was the last time you checked the room?" she asked him.

"No one has come in other than the servants all day," he assured Selene.

"Did you know them?"

The guard glared at her but stepped past her into the room, searching cabinets, behind drapes, and under tables. Selene took the liberty of looking under the bed, where she found a Dunmer.

"Hello, there," she sing-songed. "Why don't you come on out?" The dark elf merely stared at her. "All right, then. _FUS...RO DAH!_"

Selene, Ulfric, and the guard all drew their weapons as the bed flew across the room and the assassin leapt to his feet, dagger in hand. He lunged for Ulfric, but Selene stepped in the way and swung her sword, catching the elf in the shoulder. He jabbed the dagger at her, but he got too close and she kicked him in the crotch. He doubled over with a groan, and she bashed the back of his skull with the hilt of her sword, rendering him unconscious.

* * *

Once the assassin awoke, Ysarald questioned him, but the interrogation revealed very little. The elf was a paid assassin, not of the Dark Brotherhood, who had been hired by an unnamed Thalmor justiciar. He was told whom to kill, where he was, and when to do it, using the extra activity brought on by the letter to Dawnstar as a diversionary tactic. He didn't even know who Selene was and just figured she was Ulfric's latest wench.

When he was satisfied the assassin had nothing else to say, Ulfric ordered his execution and the guards took the Dunmer away. The sun was starting to light the eastern horizon as the guards did another check of his room and he and Selene went to bed. She knew neither of them would sleep. Who could even think of it after such an incident? Even after all their precautions, the assassin had managed to invade not only the castle, but Ulfric's private bedchamber. Although Selene knew she could do it easily, the thought that someone else could do it to her was unsettling.

Next to her, Ulfric lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. She propped on an elbow and stroked his brow. "Are you all right?"

"Of course. It is not the first time someone tried to kill me, you know. It won't be the last."

"You're stubborn."

Ulfric released a frustrated breath. "Aye, I'm shaken. Does my admission of weakness make you happy?"

"Getting rattled because you found an assassin hiding under your bed doesn't make you weak, Ulfric. It makes you a person. Wait, this sounds very familiar. Have we had this conversation before?"

Ulfric looked up at her, his green eyes full of unexpressed emotion. "You saved my life."

"I'm sure you could have handled one elven assassin on your own."

He reached up and cupped her cheek in his big hand. "Selene, I—thank you."

"You're welcome," she murmured, bending down to kiss him.

* * *

Characters and settings c. 2011 Bethesda Softworks LLC


	8. An Operative's Tale 8: Evicted

An Operative's Tale 8

Evicted

_Proclamation_

_Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Eastmarch, hereby recognizes the contribution of Selene of Whiterun, a/k/a the Dragonborn, to the Stormcloak Rebellion and the City of Windhelm. She has brought honor to herself and to the Stormcloak army, has been instrumental in its rapid advance across Skyrim, and has rid this city of a murderer plaguing its streets._

_In appreciation of her service to the Stormcloak Rebellion and the City of Windhelm, Selene of Whiterun, a/k/a the Dragonborn, shall hereafter be known as STORMBLADE._

_Decreed 3 Sun's Dusk 4E 202_

_Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak_

* * *

Ulfric also promoted Selene to Commander, and she abandoned the blue leather and mail for the bearskin uniform. The edict and promotion made Selene uncomfortable, but Ulfric told her she should get used to such attention. "Whether you like it or not, you're a hero, Selene, and people take notice of that. If you wanted to live a quiet life, you probably should have stayed with the Companions."

"_Now_ he tells me."

Ulfric chuckled. "I doubt life would have stayed quiet there, either. Regardless of what you do for the rebellion, you're still Dragonborn. One with as much notoriety as you deserves a surname, and I imagine you would rather have one of your own than take the name 'Stormcloak.'"

He didn't elaborate and Selene didn't ask him to, but it was an odd thing to say. Was it just an offhand comment, or was it a hint at something more serious? She saw the way he looked at her and knew his feelings for her had changed, but surely he wasn't considering marriage. She felt like a silly girl even entertaining the notion of marrying Ulfric. He was going to be High King of Skyrim, and she was not cut out to be queen. The thought of sitting on a throne and handing out orders to others instead of doing things herself was laughable. She found it difficult to let the maids take care of her as it was. Best to put that thought out of her mind right away.

Word came of a hidden Imperial camp in The Pale, and Selene took a couple of soldiers to dispatch the threat. It was a quick, simple trip, and the only trouble they ran into was a group of bandits who decided to try their hand at robbing the mighty Stormcloaks. The bandits fell easily, the Imperials fell easily, and Selene's party was home in four days, just in time to celebrate her twenty-first birthday. She had become a werewolf on her previous birthday. Somehow, she didn't think this one would be so exciting That was okay, though. A nice dinner and an evening by the fire with Ulfric and a bottle of good wine would suit her just fine. Perhaps she could finally beat him at chess.

After she dismissed her team, Selene stopped into The White Phial to sell a few potions she had lifted from her enemies and stock up on some supplies for herself. As she opened the door to the shop, she heard a familiar voice.

"I don't know what that means," said a man with an impossibly deep voice. "All I know is I need the stuff written on this piece of paper."

"This is very strong pain medicine," noted Quintus Navale, the alchemist standing across the counter from the big, lovable warrior. "If not taken correctly, it could be very dangerous to the patient."

Farkas leaned over the counter, menacing the Imperial. "Are you saying you're not gonna sell it to me?"

Selene stepped up to the counter. "Hey, there!" Farkas looked down at Selene, and his face lit up. He picked her up and swung her around, and she yelped, "Put me down, you big lug!"

"You said that last time, too."

"And I'll say it next time. You know, you didn't have to come all this way just to wish me a happy birthday."

"I didn't actually..."

"I'm just teasing, Farkas."

"Oh. I knew that. But happy birthday, anyway. Hey, you got promoted!" he exclaimed, noticing the officer's uniform.

"Yeah, I guess they like me."

"She saved Ulfric Stormcloak's life," Quintus remarked.

Farkas smiled down at her. "Doesn't surprise me any."

"What's the problem?" Selene asked him.

"This milk drinker doesn't want to give me what I'm asking for."

Quintus handed Selene a piece of paper that had the name of a potion she didn't recognize written on it, and she looked up at the alchemist with a shrug. "I don't know what this is."

"It's a powerful pain remedy," the alchemist informed her, "and the amount he wants is very dangerous."

"Farkas, what happened?"

"Athis and I were on our way back from a job, and he slipped on the ice and fell. Broke his leg. Poor elf hates all the ice and snow. Anyway, they won't let him into the city, so I've gotta take care of him, and we have a tent set up out—"

"Won't let him into the city? Why?"

"Guard said gray-skins weren't welcome. But there's one right outside selling meat and stuff! I don't get it."

"You didn't say the mixture was for a Dunmer," Quintus interrupted. "This will be perfectly safe for him."

Selene held up a hand. "Hold onto it, Quintus; we may be back for it later. In the meantime, Farkas, take me to Athis."

Farkas had set up a tent in the woods not half a mile from Windhelm's stables, and they found Athis sprawled on a bedroll, blade in his hand, breathing heavily from the pain. The leg was splinted and wrapped, but it was little more than a simple field dressing.

"Well, hello, Selene," the Dunmer greeted her. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Slipped on the ice, did we? I thought elves were supposed to be spry."

"Bandits, mages, bears, I can handle; but one false step on a slippery rock does me in. I'm a warrior, for Azura's sake, a hunter. But I'll probably die of old age, crippled and haggard with all my friends and family long dead before me."

"And feeling sorry for yourself." She laid a hand on his forehead, and he seemed warm, but she had no idea how what an elf's normal body temperature was so she didn't know if he had a fever or not.

"I set the leg and wrapped it," said Farkas, "but he's gonna need a healer and a lot better place to rest up for a few days before I'll want to put him on a cart for home."

"I've got just the place."

Moving a Dunmer with a broken leg wasn't easy, but getting him into town was harder. The gate guard stopped them and said they'd already told Athis to stay out, and after five minutes of back and forth, she pulled rank on him and he reluctantly let them through. The palace guard gave her trouble as well.

"I can't let him in here, Stormblade."

"You can because I'm saying you can. He's a friend of mine, and he can be trusted."

"It's not a matter of trust. If I let a gray-skin in here after what happened on the Thirtieth of Frostfall, Ysarald will have my head. _Ulfric_ will have it!"

"And I'm gonna have your arse if you don't stand aside!" she roared. "I will take care of Ulfric and Ysarald. Now, move it!"

Selene figured she would have to fight Ulfric, or at least Ysarald, to get Athis through then great hall and upstairs, but Ulfric wasn't on the throne and Thrice-Pierced wasn't in the war room. Jorleif let them pass without a word, just nodded a greeting. Though it was painful, it was easier for Farkas to just carry Athis up the narrow stairs to Selene's room rather than letting him lean on them, and before long the elf was propped comfortably on several pillows with Liska sitting next to him, licking his hand. Farkas sat by the fireplace and stretched his long legs toward the flames, warming his feet.

A maid came into the room, and she stopped, eyes wide at the image of the dark elf lying in Selene's bed. "Ma'am—" she began.

"It's okay, Sigrid. I need you to go to the Temple of Talos and fetch Jora."

"Aye, ma'am." Sigrid left the room, and Selene sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'm afraid you're gonna get a lot of that while you're here, Athis. They weren't friends to the elves to start with, and a Dunmer made an attempt on Ulfric's life less than a fortnight ago."

"And they believe if one is their enemy, we're all their enemies?"

Selene shrugged her confirmation. "Fortunately, I carry a bit of weight around here these days."

"Aye," said Farkas. "They made her an officer in the army, and they're calling her Stormblade."

"Oi, pretty soon you'll be too good for us Companions."

"Never happen, brother." She leaned over and kissed Athis on the cheek.

Jora came in a few minutes later, and Selene took Liska and sat by the fire with Farkas while the priestess of Talos examined Athis's injured leg. After a few "hmms" and "uh-huhs," she cast a spell, her hands emitting golden light as she passed them over the leg.

As Jora did her healing work, Jorleif stepped into the room and leaned against the door jamb, arms folded. He didn't say anything, just looked at Selene expectantly, but she motioned for him to wait until the priestess was finished.

"'Twas a good, clean break," Jora told Athis, "and whoever set the leg did an excellent job."

"That was me," Farkas bragged.

"Well, your first aid ensured that he will have a quick recovery."

"Good," said Athis. "We need to get back to Whiterun."

"Not for a few days, perhaps a sevennight. You can't walk or ride a horse, obviously, and a cart would jostle you too much at this early stage in the healing process. I will send Quintus Navale with some potions and supplies to wrap the leg properly, and I'll stop in tomorrow to see how you are doing."

Selene went to Jora and grasped her hand. "Thank you."

"Talos guide you, my friend."

When the priestess walked past Jorleif and left the room, Selene crossed her arms in a defensive stance. With her peripheral vision, she noticed Farkas getting up to stand behind her. "Yes?"

"Jarl Ulfric has respectfully requested that you remove the Dunmer from the palace."

Remove the Dunmer. Interesting choice of words. However it was worded, the order had taken longer than she'd expected. "And why is that?"

"I believe you know why."

"I'm assuming you told him we were here?"

"Aye, milady. It was my duty, of course."

"Of course. And Ulfric couldn't come ask me himself? Especially after not seeing me for four days." Jorleif lowered his eyes guiltily. "Where is he?"

"He is in his chambers."

"I'll speak with him, and I believe you can be reasonably sure my friend here won't get up and try to kill anybody while I'm gone."

"Stormblade, I—"

Selene put up a hand to stop him. "I'm not angry with you, Jorleif. I know you did what you felt was right. My friends won't cause any trouble as long as they're left alone. Now, please go back to your post."

Jorleif nodded and left the room, and Selene turned to her friends. "I'm sorry."

Athis started to get out of bed. "We'll find another place."

"Lie back down. I'm going to talk to Ulfric; you two sit tight." Farkas stood next to her, face red and hands curled into tight fists, his wolf spirit lingering close to the surface. Selene placed a gentle hand on his arm. "This is not the place to get angry, love. You know that."

"I won't lose control," he assured her. "But I don't like how they're treating him."

"Neither do I. Go rest by the fire; I'll be back in a while." Farkas reluctantly took a seat, and Selene left the room, closing the door behind her.

She found Ulfric in his room, sitting at his desk. "Is he gone?" he asked, not looking up.

"No, he's not gone. Ulfric, his leg is broken. We had to carry him to get him to my room."

"And I should care, why?"

"Because he's my friend."

He looked up at her then, eyes hard and mouth set in a scowl. "And what am I?"

"That's not fair."

Standing up and looming over her, he growled, "How could you even think it would be all right to bring a Dunmer into the palace, to say nothing of taking him to your private chambers?"

"It's not as though he's a threat."

"You don't know that."

"Ulfric, he's a Companion, for Kyne's sake."

"Aye, and the Companions are mercenaries for hire, no? How can either of us be sure someone hasn't employed him to make another assassination attempt?"

"In case you forgot, the Jarl of Whiterun, who is unfailingly loyal to you, is a Companion. Athis is not going to betray you, much less Vignar."

"Did you not think I'd see _this_ as a betrayal?"

"Do you really believe it was my intention to betray you? Besides, you don't think he's here for you, anyway. You just don't want him in the palace and couldn't think of a better excuse to get him out. But Athis is my shield-brother, and I took a vow to defend him."

"Well, defend him somewhere else, because I want him out of my palace now. I don't need an excuse."

Now it was Selene's wolf spirit that threatened to surface. Heat radiated up her neck and into her face, and she ground her teeth, taking slow, deep breaths so as not to lash out. She had to take her own advice. This was not the time to lose control. But oh, she wanted to hit him.

"Give me a couple of hours so I can make other arrangements," she requested, her voice steady.

"Done."

"I mean it, Ulfric. I want your assurance that he and Farkas will not be harmed while I'm trying to find a place for them to stay."

"Do you think so little of me that you even need to ask?"

"I thought more of you before you ordered me to put my injured friend out on the street."

"You have my word," he relented. "No harm will come to your friends. But they leave tonight. Is that clear?"

"Crystal." Selene leveled a glare at him so venomous that he actually flinched, and then she turned and walked out of the room. She went back to her chambers, slammed the door, and stomped her feet in frustration, squealing like an angry child.

"Didn't go well, I take it?" Athis asked.

"I'm leaving for a while to see if I can find somewhere to take you. Ulfric has promised to leave you alone, but Farkas, if somebody comes in with malicious intent—"

"They're as good as dead."

Selene's breath caught in her throat. Farkas meant it, and she desperately hoped it wouldn't come to that.

The first place she tried was Candlehearth Hall, but Elda Early-Dawn wouldn't hear of it. "Can't have no gray-skin stinking up my inn, Selene. You understand how it is."

"Actually, no, Elda. I don't."

She went to Aval Atheron, a Dunmer who had a stand in the Stone Quarter, and told him of her plight. "Do you have any idea where I might put him up?"

Aval leaned on the counter, thoughtful. "I'm not sure. The New Gnisis Cornerclub doesn't have rooms to rent, so there's really no place in town that would be suitable. They're Companions, you say?"

"Aye."

He reached under his counter and locked the stand. "Come with me." He ran through Windhelm to the Gray Quarter, where he led her to his house and opened the door. "Wait here," he said as he ducked inside.

"Gray Quarter" was the perfect description for the district. Although the city employed a staff to keep the other areas of town clean, no one came to this area to pick up garbage or remove snow. The residents did what they could, which wasn't much. Narrow paths had been shoveled to make access easier, but mud, trash and soot coated the snow on either side of the walkways, turning everything a dull, depressing gray. Selene hadn't seen a well in the district, and she assumed the residents had to go to the docks to draw water. The stench was oppressive, and she could just imagine what it would smell like in the heat of summer.

And Ulfric allowed it.

Part of her wanted to believe he didn't know how bad it was here, but Ulfric wasn't a stupid man, and he knew what went on in his city. He would say he was being generous by just allowing them to stay there. He'd say they could leave if they didn't like it, but Selene knew many of them had nowhere else to go. She was starting to understand just how they felt.

Aval stepped back outside, crestfallen. "I'm sorry, Selene," he said. "I spoke with my brother and sister about your friends staying here, but we simply don't have the room. I wish I could help, but there's no way we could make it work."

"It's all right, Aval. Thank you for trying." She stopped into the New Gnisis Cornerclub just in case, but Ambarys Rendar couldn't help, either. Rather, he _wouldn't_ help. Selene got the distinct idea that he refused assistance because she, a Nord—and Ulfric's mistress, no less—was the one asking.

Sure, Selene was a hero. She'd solved the Butcher murders and contributed so much to the war effort. She'd defended Ulfric, and they were grateful. They even gave her a surname. Windhelm adored her. _Ulfric_ adored her. Until she needed something more than a gesture. Apparently she didn't carry as much weight in Windhelm as she'd thought. She guessed it was her turn to feel sorry for herself. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she left the Gray Quarter and marched up the steps of the palace. She dreaded walking into her room and telling Farkas and Athis they would have to return to their tent outside the city. She had done all she could, but she had failed them.

Ulfric was sitting on the throne when she entered the great hall, and Selene refused to look at him when she stalked past, even when he called her name. She made her way through the war room and up the stairs toward her chamber, slowing when she heard the sound of footsteps coming after her. She turned to see him approaching.

"What?" she asked when he caught up, refusing to look him in the eye.

He brushed the tears from her cheeks. "Did you find a place?"

"No, I didn't. But don't worry. I'll still get him out of the palace."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key, which he placed in her hand. "Hjerim has been cleaned and partially furnished in preparation for sale. I've spoken to the owner, and she has agreed to let your friend stay there while he convalesces."

"For how much?"

"That's been taken care of."

"Thank you." She turned her back on him and started toward her room, but he grabbed her arm.

"Wait," he pleaded. "Selene, you must understand my feelings."

"I do understand. Elves captured you, tortured you; they threaten our way of life, outlaw our gods; one even tried to kill you in your own home. They're not all like that, but you can't see past your own hatred to even consider it. In any case, I thought you cared enough for me that you wouldn't refuse to let him stay."

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not. Perhaps you're sorry I'm upset, but you're not sorry for what you did. If you have work for me, you can find me at Hjerim with my shield-brothers. If nothing comes up, just let me know when it's time to march on Solitude."

"You're leaving?"

She nodded. "I don't want to be here right now."

Ulfric looked as though she had slapped him. "Very well," he whispered softly. He brushed past her and headed up the stairs toward his bedroom.

* * *

Characters and settings c. 2011 Bethesda Softworks LLC


	9. An Operative's Tale 9: Time to Go

An Operative's Tale 9

Time to Go

Farkas and Athis stayed at Hjerim for a week before returning to Whiterun. During that time, Selene told them about some of her activities with the Stormcloaks and caught up with the goings on at Jorrvaskr. Athis slept a lot, and it was good to have Farkas to herself for a while. With their new relationships, most of their residual sexual tension had relaxed, and they could be together as friends without worrying about doing something they would regret. Together, they caught up on the more personal aspects of their lives. She had missed the long, fireside talks they'd had on the road where they told each other all their silly hopes and dreams, and it was refreshing to do so again. Farkas was still with Saadia, and he was starting to entertain the notion of asking her to marry him. He was, however, less than thrilled with Selene's current love interest. Truth be known, at the moment, so was she.

When her shield-brothers left, Selene moved back into the palace, but her relationship with Ulfric had taken a turn and she spent much less time with him. He tried to make amends, but he gave her space when she asked for it, and there was less friction than she had expected. There was little time to socialize anyway; plans for the march on Solitude were coming together. Troops were already on the move, and Ulfric's contingent was ready to leave Windhelm by the end of the month.

A team of twenty left the city on the first of Evening Star, all but one dressed in standard Stormcloak armor. Only Henrik, Ulfric's second in command, wore the fur of the officer's uniform. Ulfric marched in the middle of the column and dressed like everyone else, but in Selene's eyes he still stood out. He was taller than the rest, and even keeping his head down, he exuded presence. She doubted there was anything he could do to truly blend in.

Ulfric was all business on the four-day trip. Selene loved to watch him command his soldiers. She had been so angry with him the past few weeks that she had forgotten how dynamic he was. He was the epitome of charisma; every word he said was so full of passion and conviction, his men couldn't help believing in him. He was no less captivating on an individual basis than when he was talking to a group. He knew the names of every one of the soldiers; and if he wasn't already familiar with them, by bedtime the first night, he knew most of their backstories. They already trusted him, and most of them adored him, but he went out of his way to make them _like_ him. As a few of them sat around the fire the last night on the road, one of the soldiers said he was not what she had expected. Ulfric glanced over at Selene briefly before looking back at the soldier. "We are going into battle together; we may die together. It is only right that I should know my shield-brothers and sisters before we fight, no?"

Later that night, Selene lay on her bedroll with a book and read by candlelight. Her tentmates were still up, so she was alone when Ulfric ducked into the tent and sat on the ground next to her. "We'll arrive at the attack camp tomorrow, and we'll meet with Galmar and the other commanders shortly after we arrive. I want you to fight by my side in Solitude, especially when we take Castle Dour."

"Why so?"

"Regardless of what has passed between us, you have been essential to this rebellion, and we would not have come this far so quickly if not for you. I may not be here at all if not for you. You deserve to be at my side as much as Galmar."

"I'd be honored, Ulfric."

"Selene, I—" He stopped and closed his eyes. "I am sorry for the way I treated your friends. For the way I treated _you_. You were right: My feelings for you should have been enough for me to look beyond his race and see him only as your friend. But even understanding that, if I had the chance to go back, I still don't know if I could have let him stay. Habits are hard to break." He reached over and caressed her cheek. "I've missed you."

Selene covered his hand with hers. "I've missed you, too."

He brushed his lips against hers, and she leaned into the kiss. Warmth spread through her body as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her body to him. She moaned softly and threaded her fingers through his hair, but this wasn't the time or the place. The kiss would have to be enough.

She pulled away and said, "You should go before someone walks in on us."

"Aye," he agreed. He leaned in and kissed her again, his soft mouth lingering over hers, reluctant to withdraw. "Goodnight, my love," he whispered finally, and he got up and left the tent.

* * *

The Stormcloaks gathered at the Solitude Attack Camp, fresh off a victory at Fort Hraggstad. Trebuchet fire had been exchanged for a day or so, but for the most part it was a waiting game. Now that Ulfric's party was there, the wait was over. Ulfric and the officers met in Galmar's tent, where they stood over the map table and listened to the general's update. "There's a side gate here, and we found a secret entrance here," he informed them, pointing to various places on the map. "We've got barricades and guards at each of them; no one is getting in or out at this point. When we set a time to breach the front gate, I'll send reinforcements to enter the side gate at the same time."

He touched the center of the map with his index finger. "This is Castle Dour, where our friend Tullius is holed up. The quickest access is here, up this ramp and past the blacksmith shop, but there is another ramp on the south end. We'll need men to go around that way and head off any milk drinkers trying to sneak out the back, then meet us in the courtyard outside the castle. "

"I'll take the south ramp," Selene volunteered.

"Just be sure to get up to that courtyard when you're expected," Ulfric barked.

"I'll be there," she assured him.

"We have something special planned for the third entrance," Galmar continued. "This is a bolt hole. The tunnel leads from the cellar of the palace to the bottom of the pillar where it stands, and as far as I can tell, they don't know we've found it. When we storm the city, I'll have a contingent ready take the Blue Palace from inside."

The plan was to attack at noon the next day. The company rested as well as they could that night, and reinforcements left for the other entrances early while the command party prepared to storm the main gate. Solitude's mill and stables were deserted when they marched past, and Selene imagined the civilians would be off the city streets as well. There had been no civilian casualties in Whiterun; she prayed Solitude was so lucky.

At noon, the company stood at the main gate with Ulfric out front, facing his troops. "This is it, men," he shouted. "It's time to make this city ours. We've come to this moment carried by the sacrifices of our fellows – those who have fallen and those still bearing the shields to our right. On this day, our enemy will know the fullness of our determination, the true depth of our anger, and the exalted righteousness of our cause."

A cheer rose up through the crowd, and Selene found herself yelling right along with them. The anticipation and energy was contagious, and adrenaline raged through her. Her wolf spirit raged as well, eager for the scent of blood and the fervor of battle. She would have to keep a tight rein on her during this campaign. She couldn't afford to lose it, especially on such a momentous day.

He continued to speak, whipping the troops into a frenzy before shouting, "Ready, now. Everyone with me! For the sons and daughters of Skyrim!" He turned and ran to the gates, where men were already on hand to break through the barricades; and the Stormcloaks followed him, their fervent battle cries ringing through the air. They charged headlong into the throng of Imperial soldiers who awaited them inside.

Selene fought her way through the crowd as rapidly as she could, killing when she had to and slipping by when she was able in an effort to get around to the south end of the castle. Although others were following her, most weren't as quick as she was, and she reached the next barricade well before anyone else did. She chopped at the wooden blockade, and it fell easily, but what she saw on the other side stopped her more effectively than a few spiky logs.

It was Hadvar.

He stood in the middle of the street where it veered left toward the south ramp to Castle Dour. He was alone, just as Selene was, his sword at the ready and a grimace firmly etched in his face. "Hello, Selene," he said coldly.

"Hello, Hadvar. What are the chances, huh?"

"I remember you saying you didn't believe in luck. Must be the gods messing with us, eh?"

"Well, they do have a sense of humor. Hadvar, there are twenty men right behind me. You should go now. In fact, why are you here alone at all?"

"I saw you from the battlements. You were running ahead, and I asked my commander for permission to meet you. He ordered me to kill you."

Selene sheathed her sword and spread her arms out to the sides, looking him in the eye. "I promised you in my letter I wouldn't draw on you, so if you have to kill me, it'll be murder. But you should hurry. I think I hear my men heading this way."

He peered back at her uncertainly, but she didn't break her gaze. She simply stood there, torso exposed, waiting for his decision, praying to Kynareth that her trust wasn't misplaced. Hadvar breathed a heavy sigh and stepped out of her way. "You should draw your weapon before you reach the ramp. There are twenty legionnaires who won't be as gullible as I."

"Neither will mine, so be prepared. Divines be with you, Hadvar. I do hope we can meet again someday as friends." She ran past him and drew her sword, ready to engage the first Imperial she encountered. Three of them came out from behind a building, swords flying, and Selene blocked the closest one. She heard shouts behind her as the other Stormcloaks caught up with her. During the fracas, she managed to get in the right position to look back toward Hadvar, and he was still alive and exchanging blows with an opponent.

Before she could turn back, a loud _BOOM_ rang through the air. Ulfric was using his Thu'um. She fought her way up the ramp and into the courtyard, where she came face-to-face with him and Galmar. "I'm having fun," he grinned. "Are you?"

Selene laughed as she blocked a swing from an Imperial sword. "Aye," she said, "I guess I am."

The Legion's numbers started to dwindle, and Selene, Ulfric, and Galmar made their way to the castle door. It wasn't even locked; they just opened it and went inside. No soldiers stood between the door and the war room up the hall, so they sheathed their weapons and approached.

It looked much like Ulfric's war room except for the colors. Legate Rikke stood on the other side of the map table in front of Tullius, who sat on a bench in a recessed lounge area. The legate was an attractive blonde who was almost as tall as Ulfric, and the way she looked at him sent a pang of jealousy through Selene's gut.

"It's time to give up, Rikke," Ulfric said with more softness in his voice than Selene cared for.

"The general has already given up. I _never_ will."

"We don't have to do this."

"How can we _not_ do it? I vowed to defend my general to the death, just like I'm sure Galmar and this—" Rikke looked Selene over with a scowl "—so-called 'Dragonborn' did for you."

"My fight is not with you, Rikke. You're free to leave."

"I'm also free to stay and fight." She drew her sword and attacked Ulfric. Tullius, who had sat in the dark corner silently since they arrived, got up and drew his blade as well.

Galmar pushed past Selene and engaged the general. Ulfric's fight with Rikke looked more like a sparring match than a battle to the death. They held back, almost as if they were reluctant to hurt each other. They obviously had history. They had likely fought together in the Great War, but evidently there was more. To her right, Galmar drove his sword into Tullius's side, sending him to the floor, gasping for air. When Rikke saw her leader about to be slain, she instinctively turned from Ulfric and headed toward Galmar, but Selene was in the way. While the legate's attention was fixed on Galmar, Selene lifted her foot and kicked her in the torso, sending her across the room and charging after her. In the time it took Rikke to recover, she had already raised her blade and was on the downswing. The legate blocked, but she still wasn't steady enough on her feet, and she wobbled as she came around for the assault. Selene parried the weak thrust and slashed her across the midsection. She dropped, releasing a stream of curses at Selene, who buried her blade into her ribs.

She turned to find Ulfric and Galmar standing over the general. "This is what the Thalmor wanted," Tullius croaked. "They wanted us at each other's throats so the Empire could divert needed resources and throw away soldiers to quell the rebellion."

"It's more than just a rebellion, don't you think?" Ulfric noted.

"If the Thalmor wanted the civil war, why did they try to assassinate Ulfric?" Selene asked him.

"That wasn't the Thalmor; that was us."

"Only a coward sends someone to stab a man in his sleep. That's twice you tried to kill him when he was helpless, and twice you've failed."

"And if I surrender now?"

Ulfric snorted derisively. "The Empire I knew would never surrender."

"That Empire is dead, and so are you," Galmar growled.

"So be it."

"Just kill him and be done with it!"

"Come, Galmar, where's your sense of the dramatic moment?"

"By the gods! If it's a good ending to some damn story you're after, perhaps the Dragonborn should be the one to do it."

"Good point. Well, Dragonborn, what do you say? Do you want the honor?"

Selene looked down at the general, broken and defeated, bleeding on the floor, and remembered the last time she had seen him. She was bound, Ulfric was gagged, and Tullius was sending them both to the headsman's block—Ulfric without a trial and Selene without a reason. But more than that, Tullius represented much of what was wrong with her world. He was the physical representation of an Empire who had surrendered to an oppressive regime and still acted as their puppets to this day, the embodiment of every Imperial soldier who had ever harmed her or her loved ones. Perhaps the honor of killing him should be Ulfric's, but Selene found herself every bit as deserving. Maybe she would take his head with her and put it on her mantel at Breezehome. She could line it up next to one of the Glenmoril witch heads. It probably wouldn't keep as well, though.

"What are you laughing at?" Ulfric asked her.

Selene hadn't even realized she was chuckling. "Nothing. Aye, the honor would be mine."

He handed her his weapon, an exquisite ebony sword with some unknown enchantment. "Here. Use my sword. Make it a good kill."

She raised the sword, and Tullius looked up at her just as she was about to bring it down. But Selene didn't hesitate, didn't even slow down. As his head fell and his body crumpled to the floor, a surge of energy spread through her body, a feeling not unlike that when she ate her prey's heart while in beast form. Emotionally, however, she felt absolutely nothing—not joy, excitement, regret, sadness, anything. It could have been the head of a draugr for all she cared. The thought that she could do such a thing without feeling was unnerving. What kind of person did that make her? Then she reminded herself that if the shoe were on the other foot—and it had been, once—Tullius would have felt nothing when taking _her_ head.

And just like that, it was over. A war that had raged for two years was ended in a matter of hours.

"Now that that's finished..." Galmar muttered.

"I guess I should make a speech," said Ulfric, looking sadly at Rikke's body.

"I'll gather the men."

"And Elisif?"

"If our plan to get in through the bolt hole worked, she's either dead or they've already rounded her up. We'll meet you in the courtyard."

Galmar left, and Ulfric turned to Selene. "I'm sorry," she said, nodding at Rikke's body.

"As am I," he replied with a heavy sigh. "I'd like for you to stand by my side when I speak. I wish to honor you, Dragonborn, the truest of Stormcloaks."

She nodded and followed him out to the courtyard, where nearly a hundred men and women were gathered. A small contingent stood off to the side with Elisif and her court among them. Selene had never seen the jarl before. They called her "Elisif the Fair," and she truly was. She was young, fresh faced, one of the prettiest girls she had ever seen. But she was just that: a girl. She couldn't have been more than a year or two older than Selene, and the look in her eye and the way she carried herself gave the impression that Elisif had led a sheltered, pampered life. Torygg's death and the subsequent war—to say nothing of the day-to-day life of the jarl of such a large and powerful city—must have been overwhelming for her.

Galmar stepped forward and spoke to the soldiers. "My fellow Stormcloaks, I give you our leader, the man who has brought us to this auspicious day: Ulfric Stormcloak!"

Cheers went up through the crowd as he stepped back. Ulfric didn't step forth, just spoke from where he stood between Galmar and Selene.

"Indeed, I am Ulfric Stormcloak, and at my side is the woman we know as 'Stormblade' and the world knows as the Dragonborn. And indeed, there are many that call us heroes. But it is all of you who are the true heroes! It was you who fought a dying Empire who sunk its claws into our land, trying to drag us down with it. It was you who fought the Thalmor and their puppets who would have us deny our gods and our heritage. It was you who fought your kin who didn't understand our cause, who weren't willing to pay the price of our freedom. But more than that, it was you who fought for Skyrim, for our right to fight our own battles...to return to our glory and traditions, to determine our own future!"

The men and women roared. When they quieted, Ulfric said, "And it is for these reasons that I cannot accept the mantle of High King. Not until the Moot declares that title should adorn my shoulders will I accept it." He turned his head toward Elisif. "And what of Lady Elisif? Will she set aside her personal hatred of me and her misplaced love for the Emperor so the suffering of our people will end? Will she swear fealty to me so that all may know we are at peace and a new day has dawned?"

With a stronger voice than Selene had expected, Elisif agreed. "I will!"

"Then it is settled. Elisif will remain as Jarl of Haafingar, and I will garrison armies to ward off Imperial attempts to reclaim Solitude. The Aldmeri Dominion may have defeated the Empire, but it has not defeated Skyrim!" He waited for the cheers to die down before continuing. "There is much to do, and I will need every able-bodied man and woman committed to the rebuilding of Skyrim. We must remain vigilant, however, because we will be called to fight again, either on our own shores or abroad.

"And we must not forget that a new threat has darkened our door; the dragons of old have once again appeared in our skies. But these creatures can be killed, whether with conventional weapons or magic, and we must rise up to defend our homes and families. The people of Skyrim must show the Dragonborn she does not stand alone!"

More cheers rose up, this time for Selene, and she just hoped she wasn't blushing from the attention. She was by no means a shy person, but for Kyne's sake!

As the men began to disperse, Ulfric turned to Galmar. "How'd I do?"

Galmar shrugged. "Eh, not so bad. Nice touch about the High King. It's a foregone conclusion, you know."

"Oh, I know."

"Getting cocky will cost you," Selene sing-songed in his ear.

Lady Elisif approached with her housecarl and steward. "Jarl Ulfric," she nodded.

"May I congratulate you on your wise decision, milady? If we are to survive the tribulations before us, we must put up a united front."

"The Blue Palace is open to you, as well as Castle Dour, and I will hold a celebration in your honor this evening. This is my steward, Falk Firebeard. He will see that you and your officers have lodgings in the palace."

The steward, a good-looking, middle-aged man with hair to match his surname, nodded curtly. "If there is anything you need, Jarl Ulfric, I am at your service." Outwardly, he was civil, courteous, even smiling a bit, but Selene could smell the hatred and fury in his scent. Inside, he wanted nothing more than to strangle Ulfric.

The war might be over, but the animosity would remain for some time. Should be an interesting celebration tonight.

* * *

Selene sat on a bench wearing a borrowed dress, holding a tankard of mead, and watching the festivities. She had expected tension or even some sort of conflict at the party, but everyone was well behaved. Ulfric and Elisif even shared a dance. But something was off, and she couldn't quite place what it was.

Falk Firebeard noticed her sitting alone and joined her. She didn't mind the company, and she had always liked men with red hair, so she gave him a warm smile. "You don't strike me as the type to sit in a corner by yourself," he remarked.

"Not normally. If I were at Jorrvaskr, I'd be standing on a table, leading a song and drinking until I couldn't see."

"Jorrvaskr! You're a Companion?"

"Aye. But this just seems—I don't know—wrong somehow." A servant walked by with a pitcher of wine, and Selene realized what it was. She took a sip of her mead. "Throughout Solitude, people are coming out of their hidey holes, starting to clean up, checking on their loved ones to make sure no one was hurt or killed. They're comforting terrified children, assuring them that they'll be safe tonight, but they can't be certain themselves. Their city was just overrun by the enemy. They've heard horror stories about Ulfric for years, and some were made true when he killed High King Torygg. I'm sure some of them believe he's evil incarnate. They can't be sure if the Stormcloaks will be benevolent or burst in and rape and kill every man, woman and child who supported the Empire, especially the non-Nords. And we're having a party."

"Is he?" Falk asked bluntly.

"Evil incarnate? No. He's not perfect, but he is a good man."

"I don't know if I can agree with that assumption." Anger flared in his scent again.

"He could have just killed Elisif, you know, or put her in prison at the very least."

"It was a political decision to leave her on the throne, and you know it," he spat.

Selene smiled at him. "Mead loosens the tongue, eh, Falk?"

"My apologies, Dragonborn. It has been a long day."

"Please, it's Selene. Of course it was a political decision, but that doesn't mean he wanted it any other way. Despite what you all think, Ulfric Stormcloak is not a cold-blooded murderer, and he's not in this just for himself. He believes in his heart that what he's doing is right."

"Do _you_?"

"Aye," she said without hesitation. It was true. She still believed wholeheartedly in Ulfric's cause. But that wasn't the problem, was it?

* * *

When the party started to break up, Selene retired to the room Falk had designated for her. All of her gear had been stored by the maids as if they expected her to be there awhile, but she didn't intend to stay that long. She was almost finished repacking when Ulfric knocked on the door.

"Going somewhere?" he asked when she let him in and he noticed her knapsack.

"Sit with me." She sat on the bed, and he sat down next to her. Selene felt she knew him better than anybody, but even after all these months, Ulfric could be somewhat of an enigma. He didn't show his emotions, even when they were in the privacy of the bedroom. He was charming and outgoing, but he jealously guarded anything as personal as his innermost feelings. She had no idea how he would react.

He seemed to sense her reticence and took her hand. "You don't have to torture yourself over this, you know. I've known you would leave ever since I ejected your friend from the palace. I had hoped I could convince you to stay, but I don't even know where to start. I'm not used to sharing my heart."

"It seems I always leave when things start to get ugly. Perhaps I'm a coward; I don't know."

"No, not a coward."

"I've known all along of your hatred for elves, but I hoped you would be reasonable enough to understand that not all of them are to be hated and feared. I guess I hoped that over time, I could change your mind, at least a little bit."

"I'm set in my ways," he mused.

"Before I met you, I thought you were bigger than life, practically godlike; but somewhere in the back of my mind I knew even then that you would disappoint me. Nobody can live up to that kind of expectation. But it didn't happen until you made Athis leave. I was hurt and angry, aye, but more, I was so disappointed. I still believed in the rebellion, and I knew in my heart that your cause was righteous, but how could I believe in you anymore?"

He recoiled as if she'd slapped him, and for the first time, she could see real pain in his eyes. His scent flared with grief and sorrow as well. She reached out and cupped his face with her hand, and he rested his cheek against it and closed his eyes for a moment before gently pushing her hand away.

"If the Aldmeri Dominion invades or you need me to resume my duties, I'll be right where you need me," she promised, "but for now, I need to be on my own."

"I was afraid you would say that. I believe the gods have bigger plans for you than cleaning up Skyrim. Still, I wish you would stay. I..._ask_ you to stay. Do what you must, but do it from Windhelm. Perhaps you can make changes of your own within the city."

"You mean like cleaning up the Gray Quarter and seeing that the elves are treated as well as the Nords? Like making Windhelm open to Argonians and Khajiit?"

Ulfric stiffened, but he said, "Many things could be done to improve the city."

"No, love. You wouldn't approve of the changes I have in mind, and I doubt most of your people would, either."

He nodded his understanding. "What will you do?"

"For now, I'm going back to Windhelm, at least 'til I figure out what I'm going to do. There's always Delphine to consider, and I've been thinking of joining the Dawnguard. An Orsimer approached me in Whiterun before I went to Windhelm and invited me to join. Apparently they hunt vampires."

"Aye, an orc came to the palace, likely that same one. We had been noticing an increase in vampire activity throughout the province; but with the war, we didn't have any men to spare. I don't care for magic beyond basic spells and the Thu'um, and creatures like vampires and werewolves make me...uncomfortable."

"Perhaps it's just because you don't understand them," she said, trying to keep the defensiveness out of her voice.

"Perhaps. When will you leave?"

"Tomorrow morning."

He trailed a finger lazily along her cheek, then leaned in until their lips were almost touching. "Love me one last time before you go."

She should have said no and made a clean break, but Selene found herself meeting his lips and moving into his embrace. Well, maybe one last time.

* * *

The secret to a long life is knowing when it's time to go, and it was time to go.

The sun hadn't yet started to rise in the east when Selene crawled out of bed and got dressed. She kissed Ulfric gently so as not to wake him, and she slipped out of the room and made her way out of the palace and through the wreckage of Solitude to the main gate. Beyond getting Liska and the rest of her gear in Windhelm, she had no idea what she was going to do. She guessed it was time to let the winds guide her again. And they surely would, but in the meantime, maybe she would just pick a direction and start walking.

"Start walking," she whispered to herself with a smile as she put the city behind her.

* * *

_Selene's story continues in _A Nightingale's Tale_, coming soon._

* * *

Characters and settings c. 2011 Bethesda Softworks LLC


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